Little Lion Man
by Jack E. Peace
Summary: Two years after the finale, Lumen returns to Miami with a problem that only Dexter can help her solve. But the problem soon turns out to be bigger than both of them can handle. Dexter/Lumen
1. Prologue: A Detour to Your New Life

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize them, then they don't belong to me.

**A/N: **So, ever since the finale, this idea has been nagging at me, so I've decided to give it life. Hopefully, you will enjoy it and this idea won't have been born in vain! So, please read, review and enjoy. Let me know what you think, the good, the bad, the ugly, just let me know! Enjoy!

**Prologue**

**A Detour To Your New Life**

_Some people might be worried if they knew about all the nights I'd dreamt up death for her. A different night meant a different way to die, and there are endless ways to die. Even a stickler for tradition like me knows that. Someone privy to my thoughts might think I had a grudge, had some unresolved feelings of anger, that she died nightly in my dreams because I had nothing but hatred for her in my heart. But that's not true. These nightly dreams are just residue from the days when the wolves still stalked outside our door. _

Dexter Morgan awoke with a start, the same way he did every morning, shirt tousled and damp with sweat. His chest heaved as his heart pounded beneath his ribs. His eyes slid to the clock on the nightstand beside the bed: 3:33 AM, right on time. Sighing heavily, he laid back against his pillow, which was also wet with sweat, causing him to grimace. Dexter flipped the pillow over, caught the faintest (imaginary?) whiff of her and closed his eyes.

As always, trying to go back to sleep, trying to imagine something different than the dream that had just roused him only conjured up the very images he was trying to resist. They played on the insides of his eyelids, a tattoo he couldn't remove. Tonight it had been a classic, replayed for his personal enjoyment. Lumen Ann Pierce. In life, she lived up to the meaning of her name; in life, she was a source of illumination in a place controlled by the Darkness. In his dreams, she is a sacrificial lamb, lead to slaughter by his psyche. Tonight he is too late to save her, too late to do anything but watch as Jordan Chase plunges the knife into her chest, as scarlet blooms across her shirt and her eyes roll back so that she was looking at him, wondering how he had failed her.

He dreamt this quite often when she slept beside him, dreamt it more when she stayed in the house he should have rid himself of long ago. Dexter would always bolt upright, sweaty, panicked, the familiar darkness of his room doing nothing to reassure him. On the nights when he could feel her sleeping beside him, she was a balm, a way to soothe him back to sleep and convince him that those monsters under the bed were only shadows and too many horror movies before bed.

But now he slept alone. There was no warmth to draw him back to dreamland, no form to wrap around and fuse into and breathe in. There was nothing but empty white sheets, shimmering orange in the glow of the streetlights through the window. Dexter turned so that he was staring into the empty space where Lumen once lay and he tried to remember her as she had looked in those nights, lulled into peace by sleep, ordinary and strong. In sleep, her Darkness left her and she was the woman he knew she was before Chase and his friends had decided that she was the next one for their collection. Lucky thirteen. But instead of picturing her that way, Dexter's mind gave him only the images from his dreams, the dying Lumen, the Lumen Chase made beg for his help before he killed her, the Lumen he could never truly save.

Sometimes, he would get a real life memory to play him through the night. Lumen in his kitchen, telling him she was leaving. Lumen walking out the front door and not looking back. Lumen leaving him behind.

It was almost easier to dream her dead because he could live with his inability to save her life. He could live with the idea that he could only fail those he cared about, that he could never make it quite on time. He could not deal with the idea that he had failed to keep her.

But still, in the months since she'd walked out his front door, he still dreamed. In his mind, she died every night. And, as always, he was the one who killed her.

* * *

If she watched the lights pass outside her window for too long, the world became blurry and unreal and she had to blink and turn away just to remind herself of who and where she was. The lights would blur the world passing quickly outside and nothing seemed concrete anymore, nothing seemed real.

But that was hardly a new concept. When was the last time that anything had felt real? Okay, that wasn't entirely fair, she _could_ answer that if she was being completely honest. But honestly was never the best policy. So instead she chose to pretend the last time things were real had been when she was a little girl in Minnesota, catching snowflakes on her tongue and chasing the family dog through the snow. Then it had become expectations, growing up, proposals and fear. So much fear. But she had left all that behind when she had been born again, baptized in the blood that was shed for her. Things hadn't been real then and things far worse that passing lights in the night had blurred the edges of her reality. But that had all changed and reality…

No, she wouldn't go there. Lumen sighed and her breath plumed on the window and she leaned her forehead against the cool glass. She had no idea where she was, on some Greyhound bus driving through the night. If it had been possible to buy a ticket to nowhere she would have, rooting herself in the seat and watching people get on and off, riding on to families, homes, life that didn't blur around the edges. But, wouldn't you know, it seemed that life _was_ about the destination, not the journey and she'd had to give a location, a fixed place in time. For two months she had spent everything she had on tickets to cities that didn't know her and bus depot coffee and food but the money was almost gone and she was still no closer to discovering exactly what it was she wanted. So now she was going the only other place she knew, the place she had belonged in before her desire for a fresh start had been fulfilled.

But that placed belonged to someone else. That Lumen had died there in Boyd Fowler's basement and she didn't mourn her loss anymore. She wondered if anyone would. Would they look at her and know that she was different, that this Lumen, born in blood, would never catch snowflakes on her tongue again or chase a dog through the snow. Would they see what he saw in her? Would they hold her when she shivered, not at the cold but at the world? Or would things continue as usual? Would the kitchen smell of pancakes as questions about expectations and responsibilities and life were asked casually? Would they even ask about her absence or just write it off to her flighty behavior?

Lumen lifted her eyes once more to watch the lights flash by the window, staring until the streetlights and houses and fences and yards and roads fused together and life blurred at the edges once more.

**TBC**


	2. Even in Their Plastic Little Covers

**Author's Note: **Okay, here's the first official chapter! The prologue was short, so I wanted to give you guys a chapter for you to really dip your feet into! Just a little heads-up: even though the rating is T, Deb does make an appearance in this chapter, so you can be certain that her language is a little bit more than T-rated. But, I assume you guys are watching the show, so you're accustomed to Deb's language and maybe even find it humorous (like me). So, anyway, please review and let me know what you guys think of dialogue, characterization and all that! Thanks for the reviews I've gotten all ready, they made me very happy! Thanks, enjoy!

**See How They Resemble One Another,**

**Even in Their Plastic Little Covers **

She wasn't entirely sure how she came to be outside. Especially when being outside meant being exposed to the beginnings of what was promising to be a harsh Minnesota winter, facing off against the elements in a pair of rolled up athletic shorts and no shoes. Not even a pair of thick woolly socks.

Blinking, Lumen felt like she returned to her mind little by little until she realized what was going on. She was standing in the driveway of the family home, close to her father's station wagon, facing toward the road. The wind whipped her hair around her face and into her eyes, wide with confusion and staring uncomprehendingly at her surroundings. She had known this driveway, this view of her yard and the road that stretched beyond, all her life but now it looked strange, alien because she had no idea what she was doing and why she was standing outside.

Shivering, Lumen turned back toward the house, the gravel of the driveway reminding her that she was barefooted. The cold made her skin raw by the time she'd hurried back to the front door and stepped into the house. The house was still and quiet around her; not a creature was stirring not even a…well, she was stirring. But what kind of creature was she? What sort of person just wakes up standing outside in twenty degree weather in nothing but a camisole and shorts?

Lumen would have liked to have said that she had never sleep-walked before, that this was a first and shocking occurrence for her. A year ago she could have said that. Six months ago she could have said that. But now, as she headed quietly back up the stairs to her room, she knew that to claim that that was the first time she'd woken up standing on her driveway, or at the bottom of the road that wound up to her house or out by the barn where her parents had once kept horses, would be a lie. Lumen found this a little unsettling.

Still shivering, Lumen slid into bed, reaching down to where the covers were bunched down by her feet and pulling them up to her chin the way she would have done as a little girl. It didn't help now. Because now she knew that the monsters weren't under the bed; her dreams and the glimpses she caught of herself in the mirror told her that.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember what had lured her out of bed in the first place. Where had she gone? How long had she been gone? As always, her mind was a blank slate and Darkness reigned supreme. There was nothing there but wonder, a little bit of worry and a pull that she was finding harder and harder to ignore. A call that she felt herself answering. The nagging suspicion that she was no longer alone, even in her mind.

* * *

"So…run it by me again." Debra Morgan sighed as she lifted her eyes to the man standing in front of her. She was weary, she felt like she had been over this time and time again. How long did it take for one person to get the facts straight? In all her years of working for the force, she would have thought by now that she would get this patience thing down. But some things, it seemed, were not that easy to learn. Her request was met by silence. "Just…one more time." She beckoned with her fingers to draw the words out.

"Okay, look, I've told you all ready, Mom is a banker, she loves her job but she hates cats. And Liberals, she hates Liberals so don't mention…you know, just don't mention politics at all, okay because Dad's a die-hard Republican. And he works-"

"Construction!" Deb blurted out, only to receive a head shake. "Shit. Fuck. I'll get this."

Smiling, Joseph Quinn slung his arm over her shoulder. "We've got quite the car ride, so I'll keep grilling you." He leaned in to kiss her but paused. "Also, Mom goes to church three times a week so…" He kissed her lips lightly.

Deb nodded. "Right, you got it." She mimed zipping up her lips and throwing away the key.

Before Deb could continue the interrogation, the door to her office swung open and two heads swiveled to see who had entered without permission. Deb was not surprised to see her brother, who never seemed to hesitate before barraging into her office, not that she minded. But she still shot him a look of irritation, not bothering to step away from Quinn. "What is it Dex?"

Dexter held up a thick manila folder. "Got your paperwork, Lieutenant. For the Shepard-" He tried to hand it off to her.

Deb held up a hand. "Christ, Dex, haven't you ever heard of a fucking holiday?" Quinn raised an eyebrow and she cleared her throat, blushing. "I mean…Dexter, it's almost Thanksgiving. Hello? Time off…"

Dexter looked genuinely confused as to why she was bringing this into conversation. "Uh…you said the report was urgent." He tried again to hand it to her.

Deb took the folder and tossed it onto her desk without looking. "Yeah, starting next week." Dexter raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "I'm off the clock."

Quinn glanced down at his watch. "Speaking of which, we should probably get going." He tipped his head toward the door.

Nodding, Deb said, "I'll meet you down at the car, I'm going to lock up here." Quinn nodded and left, bidding Dexter goodbye and wishing him a pleasant holiday.

When he was gone, Dexter looked at his sister. "This is a pretty big step right? Meeting the parents for Thanksgiving dinner?"

Deb sighed, leaning against her desk. "Yeah and I'm going to fuck it up, I know it." She slapped a palm on her forehead. "Shit!"

Dexter chuckled, shaking his head. "Just relax, you'll be fine. They'll love you. Besides, it's been two years, isn't it about time…"

"Yeah, yeah I know but still…" She grimaced, straightening up. "Be honest: do I look like a girl who could go to church three times a week?" Dexter pursed his lips, shifting awkwardly. "Great. They're going to hate me."

Again, Dexter shook his head. "No, they aren't Deb, no one could hate you." She shot him a look. "Well…I mean…Quinn loves you, isn't that supposed to be all that matters?"

Deb waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever." Quickly, she switched gears. "I still feel bad, Dex, about you spending Thanksgiving alone. Are you sure you don't want me to cancel so we can have our traditional Morgan Thanksgiving of beer, pizza and CSI?"

"You're not using me as an excuse to get out of this." Dexter informed her frankly. "Besides, I won't be alone, I'll have Harrison. He wants a turkey this year." He wasn't entirely sure if he was up to the challenge of cooking a traditional (as defined by the rest of America) Thanksgiving meal but he figured if he could be a serial killer, blood-splatter analyst and father, then he could cook a turkey and mash some potatoes.

Deb looked disappointed, gnawing on her bottom lip. "Fine. But be prepared to provide over-the-phone advice." Dexter saluted.

Deb gathered her purse and keys and together they left her office. The room around them was eerily silent, all the desks empty, computer screens lifeless. "Look at this place. You'd think crimes didn't happen over the holidays." Dexter remarked, shaking his head. He'd closed down his own workstation only moments before, primarily because it was something he was expected to do. He would have gladly spent the next several days in there, enjoying working in the complete silence, but working over the holidays was, as Deb had just pointed out, just not acceptable. Besides, he did have Harrison to get home to and his son was just as excited, if not more so (for some unfathomable reason) about Thanksgiving as he had been for Halloween. The apartment was all ready decorated with dozens of tiny, hand-shaped turkeys that Harrison had been making in his pre-school class and Harrison was constantly reliving the singular line he'd had in the Thanksgiving pageant. Deciphering evidence was not going to be on his agenda for the next several days.

"Well, maybe the tryptophan will keep people from killing each other." Deb remarked hopefully as she switched off the last of the lights. "Let me know if-"

"I'm not going to change my mind." Dexter assured his sister. "Go. You're going to have a great time."

Deb looked doubtful. "I'm going to be so busy trying to keep everyone straight that I won't be able to think about anything else. I mean, seriously, who has twelve fucking nieces and nephews?"

"Deb, you're a Morgan. You went from vice cop to Lieutenant. You can do this."

Deb nodded. "I can do this."

Dexter raised an eyebrow. "So what does Quinn's dad do again?"

"Shit."

* * *

"Lumen. Hello, Lumen!"

Blinking, Lumen lifted her head and turned in the direction of the summons. "Yeah? What? Sorry."

Her mother shook her head, disappointed. "I asked if you had started on the cranberry sauce." She clucked her tongue. "Clearly, you have not."

Lumen flipped closed the magazine she had been staring at, uncomprehendingly, for the past several minutes. "No, I…uh…I forgot…"

"You forgot." Her mother said those two words as though her daughter had just announced that the Russians had just targeted their state as the test area for their nuclear weapons. "Thanksgiving is tomorrow, Lumen, how could-"

Lumen shook her head and scoffed. "If Thanksgiving is tomorrow what's the big fucking deal?"

Pursing her lips, making it look as though she had been sucking on lemons for the past several days, her mother set aside the spoon she had been using to whip the potatoes. "Missy, this attitude of yours has got to change. We've been putting up with your…your moods for the past two years and I can tell you right now I'm tried of it. You're sullen, pouty, just…unmanageable and where do you go in the middle of the night?" Lumen's eyes must have widen in surprise because her mother nodded, pursed lips seeming to smirk without losing their lemon-sourness. "That's right, your little late night outings haven't gone unnoticed.

Lumen wished that she could tell her mother that she had no idea where she went off at night and could she offer any insight? But if she admitted to being clueless, her mother would either think she was lying or have her committed. Lumen wasn't sure that the latter option was a bad one. Because that morning she had noticed blood on her fingers and no memory of how it had gotten there. She kept telling herself that it had somehow come from the cuts on her feet but conviction was nothing without faith. And now she was thinking about him, dreaming about him, her thoughts whisking her away to Miami whenever she wasn't carefully keeping them from wandering down memory lane. Thinking of Dexter filled her with a sense of something more than longing and nostalgia, a pull in her solar plexus.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about." Her mother's words pulled Lumen out of sunny, macabre Miami and back to unyielding Minnesota. "You are not my daughter anymore. And not just the cranberry sauce but-"

Quickly, Lumen got to her feet. "You know, you're right Mother. I'm going to the store."

Blinking, her mother watched as she left the kitchen and walked out the front door without a glance back.

* * *

"Dad! I made this!" Harrison proudly shoved yet another scribble drawing of what Dexter had been told was the first Thanksgiving. Dexter took the paper and studied it closely. One scribble cloud, he assumed, was a pilgrim, while the blob next him was either an Indian or a turkey. Or possibly corn.

Smiling, Dexter ruffled the blond hair of his son. "Good job buddy. Why don't you draw another one." He was going to need to focus all his attention on the mess that was quickly developing around him. He was starting to get the feeling that Thanksgiving was one of those things that was best handled by a woman's touch. Like interior decorating or class bake sales.

"I want to watch you cook." Harrison informed him, hurrying over to the table and trying to drag a chair into the kitchen. He quickly gave up and went back to his father. "I can help."

"Well…" Dexter looked back toward the kitchen. Pots boiled on the stove, there was a knife laying out next to the cutting board, there seemed to be more than a few things that a three year old could use to inadvertently do harm to himself. "Maybe you can just wait in the-"

"I want to help." Harrison insisted with all the conviction of a toddler. "I can. I can do the 'tatoes."

At his words, Dexter felt his eyes grow wide. "Potatoes. Daddy forgot potatoes." Normally, this wouldn't pose much of a problem, seeing as he had never been a fan of potatoes but Harrison was currently a connoisseur of all things messy, lumpy and unintentionally finger-food, so he knew the mashed potatoes would definitely be missed, no matter how much stuffing he had on his plate to distract his attention.

"Okay, buddy, we've got to make a quick trip to the store." Dexter hoped the turkey and other various Thanksgiving staples would survive on their own for the next thirty minutes. If not…well he had insurance on this place.

On the way to the store, Harrison sung Christmas carols loudly, off key and incorrectly with a radio station that seemed convinced that Christmas had all ready started and continued to sing them as they hurried through the store, dodging all the other confused and flustered husbands who had been sent out on errands. Thankfully, he was able to snag a few potatoes from a depleted bin and Harrison kept himself occupied with the candy rack as they waited in an outrageously long line while an overtired and underpaid clerk sluggishly rang up and bagged items.

Back at the apartment, Dexter was relieved to see that it didn't look like any smoke was pouring out the windows. After unbuckling Harrison, Dexter bent down to retrieve the bag of potatoes from the floorboards.

"Mama." Dexter froze when he heard Harrison's voice, filled with joy and conviction. He had used that word sparingly since developing a vocabulary and when he did, it was always in context, never used at random in the middle of a parking lot.

Quickly, Dexter turned around to see what had caught Harrison's attention and had caused him to utter that single, painful word. What he saw was almost worst than what he had imagined. And it was certainly the last thing he was expecting.


	3. See Where All My Follies Led

**See Where My Follies Led **

He had stopped dreaming about her. Dexter wasn't entirely sure when it had happened or why but one morning he had woken to realize that it was, in fact, morning and not some time before and he wasn't chilled to the marrow with thoughts of Lumen dying in his arms. Or in any number of other ways. And he couldn't conjure a dream of her even if he wanted to, not a thought of her smile (rare beast that it was) or her chilling coldness that reminded him so much of himself, existed anywhere other than his yellowing memories. But he didn't need a dream or a memory now because here she was, live in living color.

In two years Lumen had…stayed Lumen. There was not split second hesitation in his brain as he looked at the woman in front of him, no brief thoughts that she bore a passing resemblance to a woman he'd once killed with. Just synapses telling him yep there was Lumen, looking exactly the way she had two years ago, only maybe a little more hollow in the eyes and lacking some of the confidence Jordan Chase had seemed so pleased to bestow upon her.

Dexter couldn't do anything but stand where he was, holding a bag of potatoes in one hand and staring at this specter from his past. And Lumen, for her part, did exactly the same thing, her nervous eyes growing more nervous with each passing second of silence.

Finally, two things happened at once. Lumen said, "I shouldn't have come" while Harrison made a move to run to her, saying with confusion, "Are you my mama?"

Dexter grabbed Harrison by the shirt collar before he could take more than a step, hauling him non-too-gently backward. Lumen gaped at the little boy and stuttered, "I…no…" before looking back at Dexter and uttering any, "I'm sorry," that was barely audible.

"No it's…he's just confused. There's pictures of Rita in the apartment and…" But Lumen interrupted with, "I mean I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come."

At her words, Dexter was loathe to admit that he felt something stirring in his chest, waking and clawing its way to the surface. Panic. An emotion he hadn't felt for the past several years. Two years if he was being honest with himself, when Lumen had told him that she was planning on walking out the front door and never walking back inside. He hadn't missed that pesky little feeling in all those months. But here it was again, bringing with it its friends hope and joy. Surprise, pleasure. They were all distant cousins he never invited over. But they had come uninvited, awakened by the return of someone else who had also been uninvited. But not unwelcome, pleasure was reminding him.

"No, uh, no." Lumen blinked at Dexter's words and he quickly shook his head. "I mean, no don't say…you should have…Lumen."

"Dexter." It was nice to hear his name said in such a way again. A lilting tone that didn't come from his dear baby sister who wanted something from his mind.

Harrison tugged against his grip but Dexter reigned him back in. "Would you…like to come inside?" Dexter pointed with the bag of potatoes toward the general direction he last remembered his apartment to be.

Lumen looked at the bag. "Oh…I'm sorry, I totally forgot…Thanksgiving." Mother would not be surprised. She took a small step backward. "I-"

"It…it doesn't matter." Dexter assured her. "You should come inside."

Harrison was watching her warily but didn't oppose his father's suggestion. Lumen nodded, a small gesture but one that seemed to please most of Dexter's unwelcome guests. "Okay."

Dexter freed his son and Harrison ran for the stairs leading up to the apartment with his father and Lumen following behind. Dexter looked at Lumen as they went and before they reached the door she finally flicked her eyes over at him and offered him a faint smile.

The smell of a decently prepared Thanksgiving meal assaulted Lumen as soon as Dexter had the door open and it made her think of something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Home but something else better and more intangible. Harrison gave her another fleeting look before returning to the living room and flopping down with his crayons and papers.

Lumen looked at him and then back to Dexter. "He's gotten so big."

Dexter put the bag on the counter and shook his head. "Tell me about it." But that wasn't what he really wanted to say. He wasn't sure what that was, the words floating around in his brain, inaccessible for the first time in his life. He had always managed to turn on unassuming Dexter and let his tongue do the talking. But now it wasn't working. Deb would no doubt no way to say, but he doubted that his sister's blunt way of spitting out 'nice to see you after two fucking years, what the fuck are you doing in my house' was exactly the tactic he wanted to use.

"It…uh, smells great in here." Lumen leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. Dexter had the feeling that wasn't exactly what she wanted to say either but he couldn't pretend to know what was running that mind. Especially not when he couldn't even understand what was going on in his own mind. "Can I help with anything?"

Such an innocent question, one that any guest would ask any host in the world. Like she hadn't been away for two years, like there was a normal sort of history between them, the type of history that didn't involve blood. Dexter pointed to the potatoes. "You could peel."

Mercifully, the turkey tasted like turkey. Dexter figured that it was time to start thanking that God that other people believed in for small miracles. Because a turkey-tasting-turkey meant that Harrison's mind was on the food and not on their unexpected guest. But that didn't mean that his mouth wasn't still running a mile a minute, chewing and talking at such a rapid pace that Dexter was surprised any eating was being accomplished. Even the other accurately tasting foods couldn't distract his son from his monologues.

But, at least that meant some sort of conversation was going on, even if it wasn't the type of conversation that Dexter wanted to have. He knew that Lumen wouldn't open up about the reason for their visit until they were alone and even then it was unlikely that she would, especially if she was anything like him. But he had to remind himself that she wasn't anything like him, the cord that had connected them had been severed and it was time for them both to breathe on their own. But Dexter knew that he was still going to ask her, with all the tact exhibited by his always charming sister.

Who had all ready called twice during dinner, and Dexter, feeling it was his brotherly duty not to send her to voice mail, had answered both times. He would have thought that Deb would have learned by this point in their lives that he wasn't exactly the best person to get advice, especially of the romantic variety, from but she had called him anyway and each question was more ridiculous than the last.

After the last call, Dexter apologetically shook his head. "Deb…" He hitched a shoulder. "I'm not exactly full of advice."

Lumen gave him a smile fair less bright than the ones that lurked in his memories. "I'm sure she just appreciates having you to talk to." Dexter wondered if she was talking just about his sister.

Only Harrison seemed to be tackling his meal with gusto but he didn't seem to notice that the two adults were only picking at their food, especially when he got his piece of the store bought pumpkin pie that he'd been eyeing for the past two days. "And tomorrow is Christmas." He announced happily around mouthfuls. "Presents."

Dexter chuckled and ruffled his son's hair. "No, buddy, Christmas is still a few weeks away." Harrison's face fell in disappointment.

"You have to have time to think about what you're going to ask Santa for." Lumen pointed out, trying to salvage the situation.

Harrison looked at her. "I already know." He assured her. "Snow."

Dexter raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure Santa can carry that in his sleigh." Clearly, he was not going to be able to live up to his son's Santa expectations.

Again, Harrison looked disappointed but Lumen quickly interjected, "There's lots of snow where I'm from. You can have some, there's way too much if you ask me." When she had been Harrison's age, she had loved the snow, now she felt like she hated anything and everything that never gave her a reason to. Was there a cure for such utter distaste? Is that what she had been hoping to find here in Miami?

"Snow? Lots of snow?" Lumen nodded with a smile. "If I lived with snow, I would never leave. Is it snowing there now?" Again, Lumen nodded. "Why did you leave?" He seemed outraged by this idea.

Lumen didn't reply. Dexter couldn't stop his eyes from looking in her direction but she had dropped her gaze to her mostly full plate, where she was tapping Morse code out with her fork. _Yes, Lumen, why did you leave? _

But, just as suspected, there was no hope for answers until there were not unintentional eavesdroppers. Lumen offered to do the dishes since Dexter had done the cooking and wouldn't take no for an answer and Dexter didn't have to energy to fight with her, let alone clean the kitchen. Instead, he decided to invest in another ritual embraced by all of America and turn on the football game, with Harrison tucked against his side. Before the first touchdown was scored, Harrison was snoring against his shoulder, another victim of the tryptophan he hoped was calming the rest of the city.

From inside the kitchen, Dexter could hear the running water and clanging of pots and silverware. When it became clear that Harrison wasn't going to be waking up any time soon, Dexter made his son comfortable on the couch and slipped into the kitchen, where Lumen was dutifully scrubbing, her eyes miles away from the dishes stacked in front of her.

"You really don't have to do that." Dexter said softly, more to keep from startling her than to keep from waking Harrison. But Lumen didn't start and he wasn't surprised.

Lumen angled her body so that she was less closed off to him but she kept her hands immersed in the sudsy water. "I don't mind. When I'm anxious, it helps me to keep my hands busy."

Dexter smirked. "I know." He wondered if she knew where his memories had just taken him: that morning at the diner when she had single-handedly ruined the daily sugar supply. She had piled the sugar on the table, a grain for each flash of anxiety, each problem she felt she faced, each second that went by when the safest place in her world was a closet. And then the home of a serial killer. Was history repeating itself?

Lumen smiled and Dexter went to join her by the sink. Together, they finished the dishes in silence, washing and drying like a well oiled machine. The couple that kills together…does dishes well together? Clearly, the more common saying didn't apply because it didn't keep them together. Whatever 'it' was.

As she dried her hands, Lumen looked at Dexter, standing beside her, silent and stoic, just like she remembered him. Often, she had wondered how much of her memories were reality and how much was just wishful thinking. Unfortunately, she was starting to feel like she couldn't trust her mind at all, so it was comforting to see that at least something held inside that grey matter was trustworthy. "I'm sorry." She said softly as she handed him the towel. "I shouldn't have just shown up like this, completely unannounced. I crashed your Thanksgiving."

Dexter waved his hand dismissively. "It wasn't exactly a black tie affair. Harrison was happy to have the company." Lumen's eyes seemed to question whether Harrison was the only one who appreciated her presence but Dexter decided not to answer. It was easy to keep silent when you didn't know what to say. "What are you doing here, Lumen?" There it was, the blunt, tactlessness that made the Morgans such popular people.

But Lumen didn't seem offended by his directness, instead seeming as though she had been waiting for this question all along. She didn't reply right away, just sighed heavily and Dexter realized that her hands were shaking. He wanted to reach out to steady her but had the feeling that wasn't the appropriate human reaction in this situation.

"Do you have any coffee?" Lumen finally questioned weakly, looking at him hopefully.

Dexter scoffed. "I have a three year old son and a full time job. I have coffee."

They stood in silence while the pot brewed rather than make small talk, which Dexter found comforting. He'd never had any need for small talk and it was good to see that Lumen still didn't waste her words, deciding that silence was better than meaningless chatter. They had Harrison for that.

They sat at the kitchen table, both with coffee in front of them even though caffeine was the last thing Dexter felt he needed. Lumen lifted the mug to her lips but her hands were still shaking too badly for her to trust that she wouldn't spill the scalding liquid all down her front so she put the mug back on the table.

"Lumen?" Dexter prodded gently.

Lumen's hands moved from the mug to her face, brushing her hair away from her cheeks, nervously tucking and untucking the strands. Dexter was glad he didn't have any sugar packets on the table.

"I…" Lumen pursed her lips. "I think there's something wrong with me." She lifted her eyes so that her gaze was boring into him, searing the spot where his house guests had suddenly taken up residence. "I…I think I was wrong before. I don't think my Darkness is gone."


	4. With Grace to End Your Life

**A/N: **Thank you so much for all the great reviews I've gotten so far! It has made me very happy to see them in my e-mail! I'm glad that everyone is enjoying the story so far and that the characters appear to be, well, in character. Keep up the reviews and the suggestions and I hope you continue to enjoy the story! Thanks!

**He's Volunteered **

**With Grace to End Your Life**

Once those words were out, the others seemed to come easily. Once she had been a vain girl, vapid even, meeting girls from her college and the city for coffee and gossip and once she had thought that those things mattered. She had been empty headed and foolish. She often wondered if she had made herself an easy target for Boyd and those other men, if her feeling of invincibility had shone even under her coat of fresh-start and shaken identity. Had they grabbed her because she had been the type of girl they were used to playing with or because they wanted to teach her a lesson? Those weeks in a place where she had learned that words would do nothing to save her and language would only fail her had made her realize that sometimes it was better not to talk at all. But with Dexter she had never been short on words, probably because, with him, there was no longer any need to censor herself. She could admit her deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets and he was just look at her knowingly and know exactly what to say. Which was why, she suspected, the words tumbled out so easily now, breaking what had felt like a two year long radio silence.

"Things haven't been right ever since I left. I tried, I really thought that things would go back to normal, I felt like I was going to be my old self again. But I never got back the person that I was before…Before. And now…recently…I keep…I'm having these thoughts, these feelings, this…need that I can't put my finger on. Nothing helps it's…God it's insatiable and I find myself thinking these horrible thoughts that seem to just come out of no where and I…I just…" All the while Lumen's hands moved through the air in front of her, as though she was pulling her words from some invisible pocket in the air. "And lately I've been waking up in the middle of the night, standing outside my house. I have no memories of how I got there or what I was doing before I woke up, I'm just there and I have this horrible feeling that I've been doing…things I can't control." She looked at her hands, clean but she saw the blood on them. She was stained. "I think I was wrong, what if I was wrong? What if I can't get rid of the Darkness inside me? Dexter…what if I…what if I…" Her throat closed around the words, forcing them down before she spoke what she couldn't stand to have made real. Self preservation, her body's old friend. Almost as though on it's own accord, her hand moved forward, seeking an anchor to a reality that wasn't blurred by confusion and betrayal by her own self.

Thankfully, Dexter reached out to take her hand, his fingers closing around her wrist. Lumen could feel her pulse beating against his skin and she felt slightly more grounded than before. "How long has this been going on? The sleep walking stuff?" Lumen recognized the look on his face: all business, the human curtain falling away to reveal the predator, the master of the art.

"Uh…a month…maybe two, I'm not sure. I mean, it could have been longer…can you sleep walk and not know it?" Dexter had no answer, which somehow didn't make Lumen feel any better. "I…you don't think that I could…"

"Kill someone and not remember it?" Dexter supplied because Lumen's throat still would not release the words necessary to continue the conversation. "It's possible."

Lumen used her other hand to cover her face. "Oh God." What if her suspicions did prove to be correct? What if she was a monster, what if her own Dark Passenger had never left her at all and she had done something that could never be undone again? Had she given herself a clean bill of health only to discover years later that she was still dying of some fatal disease?

Dexter got to his feet, his hand slipping away from hers. "You can't remember anything?" He walked to the kitchen, covering its length quickly before turning back around and walking back toward her again. Pacing, never a good sign.

"I…" Lumen lifted her head, holding her hands palm up, empty. "I don't know…nothing I…Blood," she admitted softly, "blood on my hands."

Dexter stopped. "Who's?"

Lumen shook her head. "I have no idea. I…that was when I decided to…"

"To come back here, to bring your problems to me." This was new, killers weren't often dumped on his door step. Dexter was surprised to hear the bite in his voice and it caught him off guard. He didn't know if he was mad at Lumen for abruptly depositing herself back into his life again or if he was upset with himself for failing her yet again. Clearly, he had not been able to carry her Darkness properly; it had found a way to escape and had flown home like a well trained pigeon.

Lumen blinked, but her surprise quickly vanished. "You're right, I'm sorry." Those words had suddenly become a mantra. "I should go. You've got Harrison, you don't need this." She got to her feet.

"Wait." Dexter was surprised at how easily that one single word was to say. Would it have made a difference if he had said it two years ago? _Wait, don't go, don't leave me_. Lumen looked at him. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Sleep walking is hardly a smoking gun."

"Or bloody knife." Lumen added and Dexter saw a sparkle in her eye.

Dexter smirked. "Exactly. You should stay here, just so I can keep an eye on you, in case you start sleep walking again." Coming from any other member of the male species, Lumen would have considered it the cheesiest, most obvious pick-up line in history. But coming from Dexter, it was a statement of fact, a generous offer. "I'll use the database at work to research recent missing persons in Minnesota, see if there's even anything worth worrying about."

Lumen sighed and once again her head fell into her hands. "Thank you Dexter." Her words were soft. "I…didn't know where else to go."

_Like a well trained pigeon_. Again, Dexter wanted to reach out, to put a hand on her shoulder, but he kept his distance. He wanted to say_ I'm glad you came back_ or _I've been hoping this would happen one day_ but his bluntness seemed to have left him and he stood there, silent. Before he could say anything, the phone rang, a familiar ring tone Deb had chosen for herself years ago when she had decided she didn't want to be anonymous when calling her brother. "I need to-"

"Yeah." Lumen nodded but didn't turn around to face him. She heard Dexter answer the phone, his voice growing softer as he retreated to his bedroom in the back of the apartment. She stayed at the table, staring down at the pattern on the wood until her eyes made faces and shapes out of the swirls and she wasn't sure what was really there anymore or what was just a trick of the light.

* * *

If Harrison thought it was strange that this blonde-headed, unfamiliar woman he had suspected of being his mother was now making a bed on the fold-out couch he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he just stood off to the side, lining up his trucks and cars and watching her every so often, as though checking to make sure that she was still there. Lumen couldn't decide if Harrison was receptive to her presence or if he was plotting ways to eliminate the new houseguest but she decided to hope for the best.

Lumen started tucking the sheets around the lumpy, hardly used mattress but paused, looking at Harrison once more. Not surprisingly, he was watching her, two cars clutched in his hands. "Want to help me make the bed?" She questioned, hoping to lure him away from his reconnaissance position.

To her surprise, Harrison got to his feet, walking over to her and picking up a fistful of fabric. "Are you my mom?" Harrison questioned after a moment of silence.

Lumen looked up, glancing over her shoulder. Dexter was standing in the kitchen, once again on the phone with Deb, microwaving some turkey and potatoes for Harrison. He hadn't overheard his son's question, which Lumen considered a good thing; though Dexter didn't seem exactly opposed to having her there (in fact, at times, he seemed almost glad) she didn't want to push her luck by bringing Rita into things. She had seen the few pictures of Rita and infant Harrison around the apartment and in Harrison's room and while she didn't think she looked anything like the boy's mother, she understood how the three-year-old could see the blonde hair and possibly even her face from his barely recollected memories and be confused.

Quickly, Lumen shook her head. "No, I'm not your mom." Harrison looked almost disappointed but kept trying to tuck the sheet around the edge of the mattress, with all the determination of someone trying to ignore something they didn't want to hear. "But, I did know you when you were a baby."

This caught Harrison's attention. "Really?' Lumen nodded. "Wow. Why?"

"Well…I used to be really good friends with your dad. I…stayed with him for a while." Was that appropriate to tell a three-year-old? She had never been good with kids. "So I saw you a lot."

Harrison nodded thoughtfully. "Why did you leave?"

Lumen didn't know how to answer that question. It wasn't the first time she had asked herself those very same words, wasn't the first time she had wondered how she had talked herself in leaving. But she still hadn't found an answer, couldn't really put her finger on it. Clearly, she hadn't been cured, killing Jordan Chase and freeing herself from him had only been a temporary solution and the effect that he and his friends had on her was a lasting one. "I…I was…scared." She admitted. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

Harrison no longer seemed to be paying attention to her, too busy driving his cars through the billowing fabric of the sheets but Lumen couldn't stop thinking about her words and her candor. She had been afraid, afraid of opening herself up to Dexter, of hurting him the way she had hurt Owen, afraid that while part of her Darkness was gone, the darkness that hadn't been caused by Jordan Chase and his accomplices would remain. The part of her that had made her leave her fiancé at the altar, the part that disappointed her family, the part that never seemed to be able to do anything right.

The hairs on the back of her neck itched and Lumen quickly looked over her shoulder. Dexter was standing in the foyer of the kitchen, watching her and she wondered how much of the conversation he had overheard. When he saw he'd gotten her attention, he called Harrison over to the table and then walked over to her. He picked up the other end of the sheets and proceeded to make the bed. "That was Deb." He said unnecessarily. "Quinn's mom apparently invited her to church and she wanted to know if I thought she'd be struck by lightning." He chuckled and shook his head.

Lumen smiled. "Poor Deb." Ever since Dexter's do-gooder sister had decided that to do good she needed to turn two vigilante killers loose, she'd had a soft spot for the woman. "What did you tell her?" She arched an eyebrow.

Dexter smirked. "That there was only one way to find out." Lumen shook her head. "She hung up on me."

"I would have too." Lumen informed him. "Deb's a good person."

Dexter looked surprised. "I know that." He helped Lumen smooth the sheets on the mattress. "But sometimes she forgets."

"That's when it's best not to tell her that she's going to be struck by lightning." Lumen pointed out.

Dexter decided it was best not to say anything. He could hardly give other people a free pass on condemnation when he had no soul to save.

* * *

Night came on without incident and lulled half of Miami to sleep while rousing the other half. That night, Dexter was among those who retired with the moon instead of hunting under it. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to leave Lumen there alone, even though he knew the threat against her had come and gone. If anything, she was the threat now. But, a part of him was unable to believe that, or perhaps unwilling; unwilling to believe that she could be like those other Monsters prowling for the innocent. Because there was only one way that story would end.

Harrison had fallen asleep easily, despite his earlier nap, and after tucking his son in and shutting off the lights, Dexter had returned to the living room, where Lumen had commenced to nesting on his couch. There were pillows piled around her, creating a snug spot that she had nestled down into, one of his paperbacks in her hands. She looked up from the book when he stepped into the living room.

"I…I just wanted to say good night." Dexter said, not moving any closer even though a part of him wanted to. A part of him wanted to ask why she was sleeping out here when there was plenty of room in his bed, when her warmth would have been greatly appreciated even in the humidity of Miami. But they had never discussed sleeping arrangements; he had not offered and she had not asked.

Lumen smiled at him and set aside the book. "Good night Dexter." There was a pause. "Thank you, for letting me stay here. I…I really appreciate it."

Dexter nodded. "Sure. It's been…" Quickly, his mind stopped him. "You're welcome. Good night." He turned and went into his bedroom without a glance over his shoulder. There was a pause and then he heard the lamp click off and the mattress creak as Lumen settled down in the middle of her pillow nest, no doubt gearing up for a sleepless night. He knew he was.

But, to Dexter's surprise, he was able to drift off to sleep, lulled by good food and a sense of peace. He thought about Lumen more than he would ever care to admit, wondering all the things about her that he felt normal men wondered about the women that had left them: where was she, how was she, had she found someone new? He found that his normalcy shown through in inconvenient ways. Clearly, he was getting too good at the deception.

And while he could now answer the questions that had been bothering him, Lumen's reappearance seemed to have reawakened something in his subconscious that had seemingly died out years ago. Because that night he dreamed. In his dreams, he found himself standing in front of the church where Rita's funeral had been held, the sun nearly blinding him as it glowed above the spire. He walked toward the entrance, his feet dragging him where he really didn't want to go. Deb was standing at the entrance, looking worried.

When she saw him, Deb shook her head. "You can't go in there, you know. You didn't get an invitation."

Dexter stepped toward the doors anyway. "I have to. She's inside."

Deb laid a hand on his arm. "But you're late Dexter." She shook her head again. "You're always late."

Dexter pushed open the church doors, stepping away from Deb and into the vestibule, moving forward until he got to two more heavy wooden doors. He opened those and found himself facing the rows and rows of pews where the congregation would sit. Most of the pews were empty, except for the one in the front row, where a handful of people sat with their backs to him. Dexter could see more figures at the altar and, again, his feet were leading him forward, though he wanted to turn around.

In the first pew, Rita sat with his brother, Brian, on one side and Arthur Mitchell on her other. Rita turned to look at him and shook her head. "She should have known better than to count on you." She said. Mitchell reached out and took her hand and Rita gave it a squeeze.

Brian also looked at him as he passed by. "Time is of the essence. Tick, tick, tick."

Dexter ignored him, his attention on the altar. It seemed as though time had all ready run out. Jordan Chase was dressed in the long, heavy black robes of a priest and was kneeling in front of the altar, his head down and his hands raised up in a gesture of supplication. But in his upturned palms was a knife. Lumen lay across the altar. Dexter stopped at the edge of the altar, staring down at Lumen. Her blonde hair was radiant in the light shining through the stain-glassed windows and she was wearing white, the virgin ready for the sacrifice.

Chase got to his feet, making the sign of the cross across his chest. He wrapped his fingers around the knife. "Ah, Dexter." He didn't look away from Lumen as he spoke. "You're just in time, I thought we were going to have to start without you."

Dexter remained motionless, his feet betraying him now. All he wanted to do was lunge forward but his feet were rooted in place. Lumen's eyes opened and she looked at him. "Dexter." She reached her hand out to him. "Help me."

Chase chuckled. "Come on Dexter, don't be shy." He raised the knife over Lumen's chest. "If you want something, take it!" The knife arced downward.

Dexter jerked upright, his breath caught in his throat, chest heaving. His was drenched with sweat but when he saw that he was indeed in his bedroom, he felt slightly better, glad that he had, for once, roused himself from the nightmare before he'd had to watch her die yet again. But he quickly realized that he hadn't woken himself up. Lumen's scream cut through the silence of the house. Within seconds, Dexter had leapt out of his bed and had flung open the bedroom door and was hurrying through the dark living room.

Lumen was still on the couch and, as far as he could tell, still asleep, but that wasn't stopping her from screaming like someone was killing her. Nightmares seemed to be catching in this house.

Quickly, Dexter grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly, pulling her into a sitting position. Lumen's eyes snapped open and, with a scream, she shoved him away from her, her actions catching him off guard and causing him to fall backward. Lumen sucked in a deep breath and stared down at him. "Dexter." Like it always did when she woke from sleep-walking, Lumen felt like she came back to herself little by little until she made sense of what she had done and who she was. "I'm sorry, I thought…I thought…" Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. "I…"

Dexter got to his feet, moving to her side once more. Gently, he put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay." He assured her. "You're safe. It was just a nightmare."

Lumen grabbed his hand and tried to pull him closer to her; he let her, sinking down onto the mattress beside her. She was shaking, trembling like a leaf against him, her body hot and damp with sweat, just like he knew his was. She rested her head against his chest, squeezing her eyes shut tight. "It was awful…" She whispered against his chest. "Dexter…"

"Shh." Dexter stroked her damp, tangled hair. "Shh, it was only a dream." But he knew from experience how real dreams could seem.

Lumen continued to shake against him, but he could feel some of the tension leaving her body as she relaxed, comforted by his presence. Dexter wondered about the irony in this situation; maybe some other time he would have found it humorous that she was taking comfort in the presence of a serial killer. But now didn't seem like the time for humor. But that was the last thought he remembered having, before he, too, slipped back into sleep.

**TBC**


	5. Are You There God? It's Me Debra

**A/N: **I am so glad that everyone is enjoying this story so far! I'm glad that everyone seems to be happy with the portrayal of the characters and with the direction that the story is heading. I hope you guys continue to enjoy and keep reviewing, letting me know what you think! I know this chapter is a little bit short but the next one will be longer, I promise!

**Are You There God? **

**It's me, Debra. **

When Dexter awoke several hours later, he was surprised to find himself still on the fold-out couch. Lumen was still sleeping, nestled in the crook of his arms, her face relaxed and at peace for once. For a minute, he could only stare down at her, attempting to make sense of the night before. Though, to be fair, really all of yesterday needed some making sense of. He'd lived his entire life putting what he wanted in the back of his mind, because the things that he'd wanted were always taken or ruined by the Dark Passenger, so it was always better not to let Him know that he wanted anything at all. The people he'd loved, those he'd let himself get close to and care for, had all been ruined by what he was, taken away by his actions, by the Dark Passenger and he'd been left alone. Always alone. And with Lumen, two years ago, he'd let himself want her, he'd let her come to the forefront of his mind and he'd let himself believe that they could have a life together. That he would cook her breakfast in the mornings and she'd be there when he got home from work and he wouldn't have to hide from her, he could be honest and open and so could she and the Miami underbelly wouldn't know what hit them. But he'd just been kidding himself, he wasn't made for pancakes in the morning and unwinding in the night with someone who truly, honestly knew him. He was meant to be alone. Yet here he was now, most definitely not alone, holding her like not a day had passed since the night they had dumped Jordan Chase into the ocean. This was what he had wanted, wasn't it? This was what he hadn't let himself admit he'd been hoping for over the past two years, wasn't it? Lumen. The woman who knew his Dark Passenger and had made it her hero. No…the Dark Passenger hadn't been her hero, _he_ had been. And here she was, finding comfort in the arms of her Prince Charming yet again. So why was he so afraid?

Rather than answer that question, Dexter gently untangled himself from Lumen, laying her back among the pillows and tucking the sheet around her. He winced as he stood up, his back was killing him; he really needed to invest in a better mattress for this thing.

Dexter peeked in on Harrison, still sleeping soundly in spite of Lumen's hysterics hours before, before going back down the hall into his bedroom and turning on the shower. He let the scalding water wash over his body, blocking out the questions that had arisen moments before. He decided to focus on what was factually true, instead of the inner thoughts he would never be able to answer. Lumen was here. Lumen needed his help. Lumen might have a Dark Passenger that took over the wheel when she was sleeping and used her body to do the things it wanted. Lumen could be killing outside the Code, in which case… He really needed to get better at making sure that his thoughts went only where he wanted them to go.

When Dexter had toweled off and dressed, he walked back into the living room to find that Lumen had woken during his shower and was brewing a pot of coffee in the kitchen. She'd all ready folded the couch back up, so the only evidence of her presence were the sheets and the clothes he'd lent her to sleep in, folded neatly and stacked on the cushions.

But Lumen was still there, her presence wafting in from the kitchen. Dexter moved in her direction, unable to keep himself from wondering if this was how his life could be, if he'd refused to let her leave that morning, if he could wake up every morning to find this person in his kitchen. But, even if Lumen hadn't left, he knew he would have driven her out sooner or later, the Dark Passenger would have refused to share him with someone else.

Lumen turned around, not surprised to find him standing in the entrance of the kitchen. She held up a box of Bisquick, giving him a cautious smile. "Pancakes?"

Harrison had still been convinced that he was going to wake up to a Christmas tree in the living room and presents spilling out from underneath the needles, but his disappointment was quickly erased when he found that there were freshly made pancakes waiting for him instead. Dexter almost couldn't believe that yesterday morning had started out completely normal, dull even, aside from his confusion on how to quickly defrost a turkey, but now everything was completely different, like an entirely different universe. Because he was sitting at the kitchen table with his son and his former lover, eating pancakes like they were a Norman Rockwell painting.

Dexter looked at Lumen and smiled, holding up his fork in a salute. "Good pancakes."

Lumen smiled. "Well, you know me, I'm great at mixing water with powder." Dexter smiled at her. "So, do you-"

The phone in Dexter's pocket started blaring Deb's annoying pop song ringtone that always earned him looks in the grocery store or court room. "Hold that thought." Dexter said apologetically as he fished his phone out of his pocket, getting up from the table. "Yes, darling baby sister." He answered when he'd stepped into the living room.

Deb didn't seem to notice the exasperation in his tone. "Dexter, do you think history repeats itself?" She questioned without bothering with pleasantries.

Her question caught Dexter by surprise. Earlier, he'd been advising her on the proper ways to convince a twelve-year-old girl to like her or how to appear both Republican and Liberal at the same time, but now she was getting existentialist on him. "Huh?"

Deb sighed and he could see her squaring her jaw, pursing her lips in order to keep from calling him one of her many terms of endearment. "You know, how people always say that history repeats itself? Do you think that's true?"

Dexter couldn't keep his eyes from sliding over to the kitchen table, where Lumen was laughing at something Harrison had said or was doing. Did history repeat itself? "What…what makes you ask?"

"Quinn. This whole weekend, I've been thinking about Quinn," which made sense to Dexter, seeing as they'd been together for the past several days, "and how serious everything seems to be getting. I've never done serious before, Dex, I didn't think I knew how to do serious. But here we are, doing serious. And…I just keep thinking, yeah it's all good now, but…I've thought that before. I thought things were perfect and then they…just got so fucked up." There was a pause and Dexter was sure she was checking to see if anyone had overheard her verbal slip. "And I can't stop wondering if history is just going to repeat itself again."

"I don't think history repeats itself." Did he really believe that? How could he, when he'd had Lumen show up on his doorstep, yet again, seeking his help with her problems, things she couldn't handle without him, and was now sitting at his kitchen table. "It's…uh…I mean, I don't think Quinn is going to turn out to be a serial killer, or anything."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Dexter had the feeling that if they were having this conversation face to face, Deb would have given him a swat or punch just so he understood how dense she thought he was. "I'm worried about me. I always fuck things up, I always ruin things, I hurt the people who love me. Dexter…I don't want to hurt Quinn. But I'm just so…poisonous."

Was this a Morgan family trait? Something they had been cursed with by some unbenevolent God with a sense of humor? Did Deb have her own Dark Passenger, one who whispered these thoughts into her head the way his did to him, convincing them both that their poison would seep into those they cared for most and that they would always be alone? Did her Passenger whisper to her that she was going to poison Quinn, the way his was telling him that he would do the same to Lumen?

"Deb…no, that's not true." Dexter insisted, hoping that she would believe the words even when he wouldn't. "You are not poisonous, don't let yourself think that. History is not going to repeat itself, you won't let it." Who's pep talk was this anyway? "Deb, you're the best person I know."

There was a pause and Dexter heard his sister sniff and take a deep, shaky breath. "Dexter…thank you." Her voice was soft. "You…you're a great brother, you know that?"

"That's because of you, Deb." Dexter wished his sister knew how true that statement was, that she was the one who had shaped him into the person that he was, even more so than Harry had, because she never stopped loving him. Her faith and conviction in him was naïve at times but it was always there and that was all he needed.

There was another sniff and then Deb cleared her throat, clearly embarrassed by her sudden emotional reaction. "When did you get so fucking cheesy Dexter, geez." Even though she was trying to laugh, Dexter could still hear the emotion tight in her voice. "Look, I gotta go, Quinn wants me to go Christmas shopping with him, but I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay, have fun Deb." Dexter hung up and put the phone back in his pocket, returning to the kitchen table.

Lumen smiled at him. "Everything okay?"

"Fine." Just as long as history really didn't repeat itself.

**TBC**


	6. They Say It Don't Get Cold Here

**A/N**: As always thank every so, so very much for all the reviews. I love to see the same reviewers every time and I'm glad that everyone is enjoying it! I hope that you continue to stick with this story. And, as special shout-out to DOZ, who is writing a wonderful Lumen/Dexter story as well, which I highly recommend to those of you who haven't read it. So, that being said, here's another chapter, please review and I hope you continue to enjoy!

**They Say It Don't Get Cold Here, **

**But I Beg to Differ **

Despite Lumen's insistence that she could handle the mess, Dexter helped her clean the kitchen following breakfast and once again, they were resembling that well-oiled machine, only instead of stalking and dispatching, they were washing and drying. Domestic bliss at it's finest.

"I'm really sorry about last night." Lumen apologized after a few moments of silence, when the only sound between them was that of the television in the living room. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I was awake all ready." Dexter assured her. Lumen raised an eyebrow, skeptical as to why he would have been awake at three in the morning. "I had a nightmare too." He confessed, taking the dish she handed to him.

Lumen's brow knitted. "You had one too? If it was anything like mine, I'm really sorry. What did you dream about?"

The images from the night before flashed through his mind: Rita in the church with Arthur Mitchell, Lumen on the altar, Jordan Chase plunging the knife into her chest. He shook his head. "It was nothing."

Silence settled between them again and Lumen concentrated on scrubbing the pot clean. Finally, she said, "I can't remember the last time I had a dream. Back home, it felt like I never dreamt at all, which was a relief because I didn't think I could handle reliving those horrible memories over and over again even though I knew Jordan Chase and the rest of those assholes were dead." She shook her head. "Figures, the first night I'm back in Miami, I'm dreaming about being down in that basement again. I swear I could practically feel their hands…" She closed her hands, grabbing onto the edges of the sink. She felt like she was about to throw up in the water, her head swimming with the smells of that basement prison, her skin burning from the touch of them. She felt faint. There was a reason she tried to repress these memories.

Dexter put a hand on the small of her back, steadying her when he saw how unsteady she had become. "They can't hurt you anymore." He said softly and Lumen nodded but didn't open her eyes. "At least you didn't sleep walk." He pointed out.

Exhaling slowly, Lumen nodded again. "That's true." She opened her eyes and looked at Dexter. "Maybe I'm cured all ready." She managed to force a smile on her face, though they could both tell it wasn't exactly genuine.

Dexter tried to return the gesture. "I'd still like to check the missing person's database, just to see if there's anything worth getting worked up over."

Lumen picked up the pot she had dropped moments before and returned to scrubbing, even though the pot had been clean long ago. "When?" She tried to keep her voice light and ambivalent, so Dexter wouldn't know exactly how terrified she was. She wanted to tell him not to bother, not to investigate the things that she might have done back in Minnesota. She didn't want him to know how terrified she was that he would find something, proof that she did, indeed, have blood on her hands.

"As soon as possible. Today, preferably, but I'm not sure I can find someone to watch Harrison." Dexter took the pot away from her, rinsed off the remaining suds and started to dry it.

"I could watch him." Lumen suggested, even though the last thing she wanted was to free up Dexter so he could go into the office. "I don't mind." Dexter raised an eyebrow. "What else am I going to do?"

For a minute, Dexter considered her proposal; if he got to sneak into the office, no one would question him about why he was looking up information about missing persons in Minnesota. He could get in, get out and it would be one less thing they had to worry about. But, if he could rule out that Lumen was being controlled by his Dark Passenger, would she leave again? Or would she stay to explore what they never had given themselves a chance to discover before? But he couldn't refuse to do something just because he might not like the outcome, that wasn't how things worked. That would be in direct violation of the Code, ignoring the evidence, getting emotional. Though, on that aspect, he was all ready violating Harry's code because he was definitely emotional, past the point of turning back. And clearly, it was all ready clouding his judgment, if it was making him consider not getting the evidence, not doing the research, just because of what he was afraid of what he might find.

"Okay." Dexter nodded, speaking before his thoughts could admit that he wasn't sure he would honor what evidence he did find. Lumen smiled. "He's pretty easy, he likes to just sit around and color, read a book every now and then. He won't give you any trouble."

Lumen nodded. "I think we'll be all right for a few hours." She hoped being with Harrison, immersing herself in a world where nothing hurtful or harmful ever happened, with someone so innocent, would be just what she needed to banish away the cold fingers of the dream that still curled around her skin.

After explaining to Harrison where he was going, who was going to be staying with him, and how good he was expected to be under the care of that someone, Dexter left the apartment, getting into his car and driving the familiar route to the Miami Metro office. He'd forgotten it was Black Friday until the clogged streets and busy sidewalks quickly reminded him and he had the feeling that, given some of the behavior he was seeing exhibited through the store windows, they might have a few homicide cases after all.

The station was quiet but not deserted and Dexter smiled and waved to the few officers and people working dispatch that he passed, but he didn't stop long enough to allow himself to be pulled into conversation. He stepped into the elevator, relieved to find that he was the only person going up. He didn't think he had it in him to make meaningless conversation with someone who's name he would never bother to remember.

As he'd hoped he would, Dexter found their floor empty, dark and quiet, the way it had last looked when he and Deb were leaving several days before. Even Masuka was still off enjoying his vacation, though Dexter had the suspicion that he was enjoying it differently than the rest of Miami was. Then again, it was Miami, so Vince might be in the majority.

Dexter slipped into his office, glad for the quiet and the lack of observers. Unfortunately, the silence meant that he had plenty of time to be left to his own thoughts, the nagging worry that he was letting himself stray off the Path of Harry for Lumen. What if he did discover that there were several, unexplained disappearances in and around Minneapolis? What if Lumen was responsible? Would be able to ignore her past transgressions in favor of the happiness that having her back in his life was bringing him, or would he stick to the Code?

"Do you really think it was a good idea to leave her alone with your defenseless son?" Dexter didn't turn around to face the speaker of the voice, because he all ready knew who he would find standing behind him. The gravelly voice could only belong to one person, the angel and devil on his shoulder at all times, his father, Harry, taking advantage of the silence and solitude to intrude on his son's thoughts.

Dexter stared at the computer screen, waiting for it to finish booting up. "She wouldn't hurt Harrison." But was that the truth or just wishful thinking? Because he hadn't thought about Harry's point until that moment; he'd been more than willing to leave his son in the hands of the Lumen he'd known and loved years before, but he hadn't stop to think about the Lumen that had worried about the return of her Darkness.

Harry scoffed, moving up to stand beside Dexter. Dexter could see his ghostly form out of the corner of his eye, the man who never aged, despite all his years of playing conscience. Dexter wondered if he would forever be hearing his father's voice in his ear. "Why? What makes you think that?"

Sighing, Dexter swiveled his chair so that he was facing his father. "Because Lumen would never hurt a child." He retorted indignantly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And why is that? Does she have a Code?" Dexter didn't respond. "Have you been showing her the way Dexter?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Didn't think so. No, you just turned her loose, taking her word that she was a-okay, that her Darkness was gone for good. C'mon Dexter, do you really think anyone can ever just leave their Darkness behind?"

Dexter turned back toward the computer, which had hummed to life and was patiently waiting on his every request. If anyone could, Lumen could; she had so much light in her, he could tell that even after what Jordan Chase and his lackeys had done to her. But now, it seemed like light wasn't enough. But he would never admit any of that to Harry. "That's what I'm going to find out. Aren't you the one who always says I have to be sure?" He clicked on the icon that would bring him to the NCIC, the National Crime Information Center. If Lumen's Dark Passenger had been playing where it shouldn't, this would be the place that would let him know. Because even if Lumen couldn't remember her sleepwalking excursions, someone, somewhere out there would have the information she was lacking. Thank God for Big Brother.

"And then what, Dexter? What if she does turn out to be a killer? You put her down, wrap her in shrink-wrap, stick her blood in your air conditioner? You don't have it in you." Dexter didn't look away from the screen, which was showing him nothing but a blank white page, taking an uncomfortably long time to produce any sort of information. "This girl is going to cause you nothing but trouble."

Dexter pursed his lips. "I can handle trouble."

Harry shook his head. "Not this kind of trouble. You don't know what you're doing Dexter. She's going to ruin everything."

Before Dexter could fire off a retort, movement on his computer caught his attention. Instead of seeing the homepage, Dexter was face to face with a message informing him that routine maintenance was being performed on the server and the Internet would be accessible sometime in the next forty-eight hours. "Fuck." Dexter slammed the computer mouse down on the desk, rattling his picture frames and the stacks of case files waiting for Monday.

Harry chuckled. "What are you going to do now, Dexter?"

Dexter got to his feet, turning to face Harry. "Just leave me alone and let me think. I've got enough going on, I don't need you in my head too."

Harry shook his head, looking at his son with a disappointed look. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Despite his ominous last words, Dexter was relieved when he was gone and he was alone in his lab once more. But, Harry had raised a good point: what was he going to do now? He wasn't going to be able to access the NCIC until Monday, when everyone's holiday was over and the homicide unit was back in business. But he had no other choice. He would just have to wait until Monday and until then, he would be responsible for Lumen, watching her for signs that her Passenger was ready to play. And what if he did see signs that her Passenger was in control, that she was operating without a Code, would he be able to do what was necessary?

The drive back to the apartment took longer and the streets were clogged with cars as more people left their apartments to brave the heat and spend their money. By the time Dexter was able to pull back into the complex's parking lot, he realized that he had spend more time sitting in traffic than he had at the office. But, at least he had mentally been able to get some Christmas shopping done by staring into the windows of the stores he'd been practically parked in front of.

As soon as he opened the door to the apartment, something small and white smacked against his face. Blinking, Dexter took a step back; five sporadically cut snowflakes (at least, that was what he assumed they were) hung on blue yarn from the door frame, waving in the breeze from the air conditioner.

"Dad!" Harrison ran over to his father, grabbing Dexter's hand and tugging him into the living room. "Look what we did!"

While Dexter had known that he'd been gone for quite some time, he hadn't been aware that he'd been gone long enough for his apartment to be transformed into a pseudo-Winter Wonderland. A Winter Wonderland of the arts and crafts variety. More of the jaggedly cut snowflakes hung from the ceiling, twirling around on their yarn, and scribble drawings of snowmen and reindeer had been taped up to the walls around the living room. There was also a tree, spanning several pieces of taped-together paper and clearly drawn by a more experienced hand, though the coloring and decoration had obviously been done by a three-year-old, taped up on the wall closest to the kitchen. Red and green paper chains also looped around the room, disappearing down the hallway and into the kitchen. Dexter took in the sudden change in his apartment with surprised eyes, though he did have to admit it looked very festive. All that was missing was the mistletoe and holly.

"Wow, buddy, you've been busy." Dexter ruffled Harrison's hair, smiling down at his son, who was beaming with pleasure.

"Harrison thought we should get a jump on decorating." Dexter turned to see Lumen standing on the arm of the couch, taping the end of the last paper chain on the ceiling. "He wanted to surprise you."

Harrison smiled. "You were surprised, Daddy." He clapped his hands together proudly. "I'm going to draw 'nother snowmen." He hurried to get his crayons and paper.

Dexter went over to the couch, offering Lumen a hand as she stepped down. "I hope you don't mind, Harrison really wanted to decorate for Christmas, I didn't have the heart to tell him it was way too early." Though, she had the feeling that back home her mother was all ready pulling out the boxes and ornaments and lights and stockings, setting up for another picture-perfect holiday season.

"No, it looks great. It seems like he had a good time." Dexter smiled at Lumen, who returned the gesture. Dexter realized in that moment that Harry was right, he didn't have it in him to kill Lumen; if her Dark Passenger had returned, he wouldn't be able to put a stop to it, he wouldn't be able to punish her for the things It had done wrong. He would be powerless and that would ruin everything he'd worked so hard to build and protect.

"Dexter?" Lumen's voice brought him back to the present and one look at her confused and expectant face told him that she'd been talking to him and he'd been in a completely different world. "Are you all right?"

Blinking, Dexter nodded. "Uh, yeah." He realized that he was still holding her hand and he moved away, trying to make the gesture look causal but certain that it didn't. "What were you saying?"

"I asked if you'd found anything out? About…Minnesota…?" Lumen asked cautiously, as though she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

Clearing his throat, Dexter forced his previous thoughts out of his head. He would stick to the Code and the Code required evidence of guilt, which he didn't have yet. So there was no need to get ahead of himself. "The server is down, I won't be able to find anything out until Monday."

Lumen wasn't sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved. She wouldn't know if she had been what went bump in the night until Monday, leaving the black space in her memory still unfilled. But at least she'd get to live in ignorant bliss for a few days more, which wasn't as bad as it seemed. "Oh. Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Dexter nodded. It seemed like so much of his life involved just waiting; watching and waiting to see when his prey would strike again. Only this time, the outcome he was hoping for was much different.


	7. It's a Thing That Happens to You

**A.N**: You guys are so amazing! I am enjoying the reviews very, very much! Keep 'em coming! I also love seeing how many people add this story to their favorites or e-mail updates, thanks for the support! Hope you enjoy this next chapter, let me know what you think! :)

**Real Isn't How You Are Made, **

**It's a Thing That Happens to You**

By the time the sun had set that night, the walls of the living room were practically plastered with scribbles of snowmen and Santa Claus and Harrison was acting as though he had known Lumen his entire life. When she sat down on the couch to read him a story while Dexter heated up leftovers, he leaned against her shoulder and practically crawled into her lap. After dinner, Harrison insisted that Lumen help Dexter tuck him into bed, tugging her into his room to show her his cars and his stuffed hippopotamus. "Aunt Deb gave me this." Harrison thrust the ratty animal into her hands and he climbed into bed. "She said he'll keep me safe."

Lumen smiled down at the little boy. "Your Aunt Deb is a smart woman." She tried to hand the stuffed animal back to him.

Harrison shook his head. "You keep it. He can sleep with you tonight and stop you from having more bad dreams." Harrison pulled the covers up to his chin and snuggled against his pillow.

Lumen looked surprised, staring at the hippopotamus. "Oh, Harrison, I don't-"

"It's okay." Harrison assured her. "I have bad dreams too sometimes." He turned toward Dexter, indicating that he was finished with the conversation. "Read me a story, Daddy."

Harrison had fallen asleep before Dexter had even finished the story about Ferdinand the Bull and Dexter smiled at his sleeping son and kissed his forehead. "Good night buddy." He whispered, easing slowly off the bed so he didn't wake Harrison.

Lumen, who had been leaning in the corner throughout the story, moved forward and tried to lay the stuffed animal across Harrison's stomach but Dexter stopped her. "It'll hurt his feelings if he wakes up and finds out that you didn't sleep with Debby."

Lumen raised an eyebrow. "Debby the Hippopotamus." She smirked. "I'm sure Deb was thrilled with that one."

Dexter shrugged. "Thankfully she has a good body image." He smirked.

Quietly, Dexter shut the door behind them, following Lumen into the living room because it didn't make sense for them to head in the opposite direction. As much as Dexter wanted to led her back to his bedroom. Even if he wouldn't admit it.

Lumen flopped down on the couch, studying the stuffed animal in her lap; the hippo was missing an ear, a sure sign that he was, indeed, very well loved. "I had a rabbit when I was younger, like the Velveteen Rabbit." Lumen said absently, running her fingers along the bare patches on the hippo's back.

Dexter sat down beside her. "The Velveteen Rabbit?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You know, the story about the Velveteen Rabbit?" Dexter shook his head and Lumen gaped at him. "You don't know that story?"

Dexter smirked. "Harry wasn't exactly into the conventional bedtime stories. Stories about crime scenes, those I know." Lumen shook her head pityingly. "So tell me about this rabbit story."

"I can't believe you don't know this story; it's going to sound really stupid now since you're not three years old." Dexter gestured for her to tell him. "It's just about a stuffed rabbit who wants to be a real rabbit."

Again, Dexter couldn't help but smirk, amused by the silly stories that entertained children so much. Rabbits who wanted to be real, bulls who didn't want to fight; artfully illustrated moral tales that kids would clearly remember with fondness into their adult years. Would he have learned more about life through picture books or were Harry's stories better life lessons? "Does he ever become a…real bunny?"

Lumen pursed her lips and Dexter knew that she knew that he was laughing at her, despite his best intentions to keep that fact from her. "Yes, he does." She replied primly. "The love of his little boy made him real." She dropped her eyes back to the stuffed animal, as though realizing exactly how childish her words sounded.

Dexter realized why Harry had never bothered to read these types of stories to him and Deb. The one time Deb insisted that Harry read her Cinderella instead of telling them another enthralling tale of a violent crime, Harry had assured her there was no such thing as Prince Charming and if she wanted evidence of that she could turn on the evening news and enjoy the stories of women who had been killed by their husbands. Deb hadn't asked for another fairy tale after that. But clearly, Lumen's upbringing had been a little more traditional, at least on the story telling front. He wondered if Lumen ever thought she would grow up to be a princess. "A happy ending." He smiled at Lumen.

"I told you it would sound stupid now. Maybe Harrison will like it." Lumen shrugged.

"A story about how love makes a stuffed toy into a real rabbit? He'll love it." Harrison always wished that his toys would become real, that they would come to life and interact with him the way the toys did in those animated movies that always had him glued to the television. "You should tell it sometime." And maybe he would listen too, enthralled by his first true bedtime story. And what moral would he gain from Lumen's little tale? That he was just like the little stuffed rabbit, waiting for love to turn him into a real boy?

Lumen nodded. "Maybe I will. Before you get tired of me crashing on your couch."

_Like that will ever happen._ "I really think it's going to be more of a question of you getting tired of sleeping on the couch. My back has been killing me all day." Dexter remarked.

"Thank you for letting me stay here, Dexter. I really appreciate it." Lumen said softly.

"You don't have to keep thanking me. I don't think you thanked me this much even when you asked me to help you kill four people." Dexter pointed out.

Lumen flushed, not entirely sure what to say. "Well…I guess I'm just excessively grateful." She lifted her head, turning her body slightly so that they were facing each other. "But seriously, Dexter," she reached out a hand and laid it over his, "I know I can always-"

Quickly, Dexter got to his feet, surprising both himself and Lumen; he wasn't entirely sure what had driven him to get to his feet, especially when he had longed for her touch for such a long time. Now that she was here, close enough to pull into his arms, he wanted the distance that had existed between them for the past two years. At least when she was in Minnesota, she was intangible, just a memory but now here she was, threatening to pull his guard down all over again. And he knew how well that worked out.

"We should get some sleep, it's been a long day." Dexter cleared his throat, stepping back toward the hallway. "I'll see you in the morning."

Lumen blinked in surprise but he was gone before it even occurred to her to protest his abrupt departure. "Night." She mumbled to herself, shaking her head. She missed the days when Dexter wasn't so difficult to decipher.

Dexter hadn't been the only one suffering back problems all day, so Lumen didn't bother to pull out the fold out mattress, figuring it couldn't be any worse to just lay on the cushions. From inside his room, Dexter listened to Lumen as she walked around the house, clicking off the lights and plunging the apartment into darkness. He heard the couch creak as she tried to make herself comfortable, which, if her shifting was any indicator, seemed to be an impossible task. And, even though he was laying in a king sized bed, on a mattress that justified it's price tag, he felt like he could definitely understand her inability to get comfortable.

But somehow, Dexter did manage to fall asleep, the sounds of Lumen's constant tossing and turning sending him off to dreamland. Even in sleep, his mind couldn't get any rest because he was instantly plunged into another dream, just as physiologically dense as the ones that had plagued him two years before.

Only, this one was different. He was standing outside, on the beach, the sun beating down overhead, the waves washing up on the shore. Squinting against the sun, Dexter turned toward the surf, where he could see people gathered around in a tight circle, as if waiting for someone. Briefly, he wondered if they were waiting on him, but he quickly realized that he wasn't alone. Deb was standing to his left, fidgeting nervously with the bouquet of flowers clutched tightly in her hands. Dexter quickly realized that she was dressed in white, wearing an elaborately beaded wedding gown that spilled across the sand, pooling around her feet.

"What's wrong with us, Dex?" Deb questioned, looking over at her brother.

Dexter blinked, surprised and confused. He felt like he'd been deposited in a story that was all ready halfway through, like he had walked into someone else's dream and wasn't entirely sure what role he was supposed to play. But, despite his confusion, he still felt a swell of pride and happiness seeing his baby sister standing beside him in her wedding dress. Maybe he was becoming a real boy after all. "What?"

"Why are we so fucking scared all the time? I'm about to get married and all I want to do is run the other way." Deb laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. "And you…some animals mate for life, you know." Deb pointed toward the beach and Dexter turned his head to follow her finger.

There was Lumen, standing in a pastel sundress that fluttered around her knees. Her golden hair twisted under the broad white sunhat that she was working hard to keep from blowing away. She looked in Dexter's direction, but didn't seem to see him, staring out into the distance at some point past his head. "I'm not an animal, Debra." Dexter pointed out.

"Pairs survive best in the wild." Deb pointed out, mimicking the thoughts that had run through his head years before, when Deb had first become invested in her theory of the vigilante killers.

Looking at Lumen, it was easy to see her as part of a pair, as his other half that fit into the puzzle that made up his life. But he still had Harry's words echoing in his mind, insisting that she was nothing but trouble, someone who would only tear his life apart instead of build it up. "But Harry said-"

"Yeah, Harry says a lot of things, Dex, but he doesn't know everything. He was wrong about a lot of stuff. Some guys are Prince Charmings." She grinned at him, holding up her bouquet. "And I'm not just talking about him." She tilted her chin to indicate another figure, standing farther down the beach. He was harder for Dexter to see, but he still has his suspicions as to who was waiting for Deb at the end of the aisle.

Dexter turned his gaze back to Lumen. "I don't know how to help her." He confessed.

Deb smirked at him, shaking her head. "Well, the first thing you gotta do, dip-shit, is wake up."

Dexter's eyes flew open and he found himself staring up at the familiar cracks in his ceiling, glowing orange in the light that seeped through his blinds. He lay there motionless, his mind still replaying the dream he'd just had; he didn't think he'd ever dreamed so much or so vividly in his entire life. Freud would probably have a field day with the thoughts running through his subconscious mind. This waking up in the middle of the night stuff was going to have to stop before he went back to work on Monday.

Suddenly, Deb's final words came back to him, her declaration that, in order to help Lumen, he had to be awake to do so. He'd never believed that dreams really were the window to the subconscious mind, he'd never believed that they were anything more than the mind just unwinding at night, replaying images it had seen somewhere before. And he certainly didn't believe that dreams were there to warn the dreamer of anything important or of any impending doom. But that didn't stop him from suddenly sitting upright, hopping out of bed and hurrying into the living room, just to reassure himself that Dream Deb was exactly that: a dream.

Dexter's eyes fell briefly on the couch, occupied only by Debby the Hippo, before jumping up to the entrance of the apartment. The door was open, knocking against the wall as the late night breeze blew into the apartment. Dexter rushed for the door, hurrying out onto the balcony and peering into the darkness. He hated to admit that his heart had quickened in his chest and he felt his pulse jumping in his throat. His eyes scanned the parking lot that stretched below him, squinting through the darkness and trying to discern what was real and what was just created by the unnatural glow of the streetlights. The parking lot was empty and still, the few cars that had remained over the holiday motionless in the nighttime shadows. He glanced down both sides of the breezeway but it, too, was empty.

"Shit. Shit." Dexter curled his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He'd done a great job watching Lumen for signs of her Dark Passenger. He'd gotten careless; why had he been so sure that the sleepwalking that had been so prevalent in Minnesota (prevalent enough to send her down to the other end of the country) would just disappear when she was under his roof?

"This is exactly what I was trying to warn you about Dexter." Dexter whirled around to face the speaker, who most definitely wasn't Lumen. In the shadowy Miami night, Harry looked even more ghostly than usual, and even more disappointed. "This is exactly-"

"If you don't have anything useful to tell me, just leave the me the fuck alone!" Dexter shouted. "I have to find her and you're distracting me."

Harry sneered at his foster son, shaking his head. "You're breaking the rules of the Code, Dexter, you're getting emotional." He gave Dexter a pitying look. "She is going to ruin everything we built together."

Dexter narrowed his eyes, recalling Dream Deb's words. "You don't know everything." Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.

Dexter turned his attention back toward the parking lot, desperately looking for something he might have overlooked before, a sign that indicated where Lumen's dreams and Dark Passenger had guided her. He was loathe to admit that it wasn't the innocents of Miami that he was worried about but Lumen herself; anything could happen to her if she was out there, blindly wandering the streets at night. And he had no idea what sort of head start she had on him or what direction she had gone in; one wrong turn could easily deposit her in a part of the city that even the predators were wary to enter.

Movement down by the sidewalk finally caught Dexter's attention and when he squinted in the darkness, he could make out a shadowy figure. Quickly, Dexter rushed down the stairs and toward the street; with each step he took, it became clearer that he was running toward Lumen.

Lumen was about to step out into the street, which was thankfully deserted, when Dexter grabbed her shoulders, jerking her backward. He tried to remember the rules about waking sleepwalkers but decided not to waste his time and shook the woman in his arms, not bothering to take the safe and gentle route. "Lumen! Lumen wake up!"

Lumen's eyes flew open and she stared uncomprehendingly at Dexter, looking through him the way she had done in his dream. Finally, she blinked, brow knitting, clarity seeping into her brown eyes until they had become familiar and warm, no longer the distant and cold eyes of a stranger. "Dexter? What…what's going on?" She blinked, looking around. Her brow knitted. "Where am I?"

Dexter kept his arms around her, as though he worried that he would have to restrain her from walking out into the street once more. "You were sleepwalking again."

Lumen looked at him with panic in her eyes. "How long was I gone? Where did I go?" She lifted her hands, squinting at her skin through the darkness. Her fingers looked clean, but it was hard to be sure in the shadows.

"I don't know." Dexter confessed. He'd all ready given her the once over when he'd grabbed her away from the street, relieved to find that there were no traces of the Dark Passenger's misdeeds anywhere on her clothes or hands. While he was sure that if the Dark Passenger could get Lumen out of bed, down the streets of downtown Miami, and have her overpower and kill an innocent person, the Passenger could also have her dispose of the body and make herself presentable again, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that no blood meant no crime. "Let's go back inside."

Lumen leaned into him, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Dexter…I don't know what I'm doing…what's wrong with me?"

Dexter wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against him. "It's okay. Everything's all right." He assured her, hoping that his words weren't just meaningless.

Keeping Lumen close against him, Dexter led her back up the stairs and into the apartment, firmly locking the door behind them, even though he knew that the locked door hadn't stopped her before. Instead of depositing her back on the couch, he led her down the hallway to his bedroom, locking that door as well.

Lumen didn't protest when Dexter got into bed and pulled her down beside him. She curled against his side and he stroked her hair with one hand, using the other to hold onto her hands tightly. He could feel Lumen's heart beating wildly against his side but eventually it's rate began to slow, returning to a much safer speed. But he knew that she was anything but calm and was far from drifting back to sleep.

"Dexter," Lumen finally spoke, her voice soft and eerie in the silent of the room, "do you think I…I…did I…?"

"No." Dexter wasn't sure where such conviction had come from, because he had been trained never to make an assumption or judgment until he had all the evidence in place and everything lined up to make a coherent story. Yet here he was, making a statement based on what he wanted to be truth, not what the facts told him. _There are no facts right now, just a possible murderer killing innocent people in her sleep. That's definitely a new one. And what's even more unexpected: the possibility of another predator doesn't excite the Dark Passenger. He's been quiet since her arrival, leaving me all alone on this one. Well, except for the far-from-helpful advice of my dead father and insights from my subconscious sister. _

Lumen drew a shaky breath. "But you can't be sure Dexter, you don't-"

"Shh…" He brushed his lips against her forehead, "you need to rest." Lumen no longer smelled like herself, she smelled like him; her hair and skin smelled like his soap and shampoo and he made a mental note to take her to the store, so she didn't have to wear his clothes and smell like him too. "Go to sleep, we'll worry about this in the morning."

Dexter wasn't sure how long it finally took Lumen to fall back asleep but eventually her slow and even breathing told him that she had, in fact, drifted back into a semi-peaceful state. He didn't move from his position, keeping Lumen tucked tightly against him, even if it wasn't exactly conducive to sleep, not because he worried that letting her go would turn her lose on Miami once more, but because he couldn't bear to be separate from her again.

**TBC**


	8. I Can Dish It Out, But I Can't Take It

**A/N**: Thanks so much to DOZ (sure, we can totally share Harrison, that way you won't be a creeper), ducky, Jacqueline, lynn422, and inu-fan20 for their absolutely wonderful reviews! You guys really are too kind. I love seeing the same names over again and seeing some new ones as well! And thanks to everyone who is adding this story to their favorites, it makes me feel good (like Buffygirl52789, who has an awesome penname!) :) Anyways, I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story, I hope this chapter lives up to everyone's expectations. Please enjoy!

**I Love You So Much, But Do Me a Favor, Baby, Don't Reply **

'**Cause I Can Dish It Out, But I Can't Take It **

The alarm blared in his ear, jarring him from sleep without any gentle coddling and Dexter knew that the weekday had begun. He'd been indulging himself, letting circumstances or an impatient child rouse him from sleep, but now it was up to the alarm to get the house up and running. The holiday was over, it was time for life to begin again.

Dexter opened his eyes and found his gaze obscured by tangles of blonde hair and the hills and valleys of neck and shoulder. His arm had lost all feeling over the course of the night, making his fingers feel like they were made of pins and needles. Despite the alarm, Lumen slept on, her back rising and falling against his chest. He hadn't meant to wake up in this position, his arm numb under her body as they rested side by side, but it seemed that sleep had had other ideas, drawing them together despite his best efforts to insinuate some distance between them. Ever since he'd caught Lumen sleepwalking, he'd insisted that she sleep in his room, just so he would know if she got up in the middle of the night. He'd insisted to himself that there was no deeper desire driving his suggestion, no personal need that had convinced him that having Lumen in his bed was a good idea, other than the one that insisted that he keep her safe. But clearly, his body in sleep had other ideas, pulling him to Lumen like he was a moth to her flame. But, he hadn't been dreaming and she hadn't been sleep walking.

As gently as possible, Dexter slid his arm out from under Lumen, impressed, as always, that the none-too-gentle motion didn't wake her up. For someone who had been imprisoned in a basement for weeks and nearly killed on several occasions, she was a very heavy sleeper.

Dexter paused to glance over his shoulder at Lumen before he slipped into the bathroom. She had rolled onto her back, her head slightly tilted in his direction, snoring ever so softly. He wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and make up for all the times in the past several days when he hadn't let himself touch her, when he'd forced himself to keep his distance. His fingers practically burned with the need to touch her skin, to brush her hair away from her face and assure her that these peaceful nights and sunny mornings could last. Maybe Harry was right after all; he was in trouble.

By the time Dexter had finished his shower and toweled off, the feeling had returned to his arm, though he hoped in the future that his sleeping body would put him in a better position. Buttoning up his shirt, he stepped out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom.

Lumen was sitting up, her back toward him, her attention focused toward the window, even though it would have been impossible for her to get a clear picture of what was going on through the slates in the blinds. She was still wearing his clothes, because her impromptu escape to Miami hadn't included bringing anything more than herself and her wallet. His bowling shirt slipped off one shoulder, recalling Deb's Flashdance phase and he could see the pink beginnings of a scar peeking above the fabric. Again, he had a vision of himself moving toward her, sliding down beside her, pushing her shirt down the rest of the way and kissing the scars that he would find there on her skin. Between the dreams and thoughts of Lumen, he felt like his brain was no longer his own.

Instead of moving, Dexter just cleared his throat, causing Lumen to glance over her shoulder. "Good morning. I didn't mean to wake you up."

Lumen smiled. "You didn't. I…I just had this weird feeling…" She shook her head, getting to her feet. "Probably just a dream."

Dexter returned the smile. "Probably nothing." He agreed with a nod. "A shower might help."

Again, Lumen knew that if any other man on the planet had spoken those words to her, she probably would have snapped off some snarky comment and told him exactly where he could stick his suggestion. But with Dexter, there was no such thing as innuendo and everything was to be taken at face value and as an honest suggestion. When Dexter suggested a shower, it wasn't one he hoped he'd be sharing with her. It was one she was expected to take alone to clear her thoughts, even though she wouldn't have minded his company, especially if it would have kept her from delving into her own mind, which hardly seemed like a familiar place these past few days.

But, instead of commenting on any of the thoughts that had just run rapid-fire through her brain, Lumen just smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

They passed each other as they headed in opposite directions and Lumen couldn't keep from letting her shoulder brush his. She'd thought she'd left all the sexual tension and walking-on-eggshells stuff back in her freshmen year of college. Dexter smiled at her but quickly left the bedroom, making sure that she had only her thoughts to keep her company.

When Lumen emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a different bowling shirt and yet another pair of sweat pants (she was impressed by Dexter's quantity of sweat pants, considering she'd never actually seen him wear them), the smell of coffee tickled her nose and the smells of eggs and toast made her stomach rumble. She hated to admit that the prospect of breakfast caused her to quicken her pace.

Harrison was sitting at the kitchen table, staring dejectedly down at the toast and eggs on his plate. When he saw Lumen, he lifted his head, seizing the opportunity to plead his case. "I don't want to go to school Lumen. I can stay with you." He proposed hopefully.

Lumen went into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee and taking a luxurious sip. She'd been tossing and turning all night, plagued by snippets and flashes of dreams that didn't make sense or turn into anything coherent. In spite of how tired she was, she doubted that even if she laid back down she'd be able to fall asleep again, especially not in an empty bed.

Now that the coffee was entering her blood system, she turned toward Harrison. "Honey, you've got to go to school. It's really important."

Harrison scrunched up his face in response to Lumen's betrayal. "Why?"

"Well, because going to school makes you smart, like your dad." Lumen pointed out, smiling at Dexter as he handed her a plate piled with eggs and toast. "Though, if you cooked food that smelled this good, you probably wouldn't have to go to school."

"Smart and a good cook, I sound like a personal ad." Dexter remarked, taking his own plate and sitting down at the table beside Harrison. "You're going to school buddy, unless you want your Auntie Deb squeezing you all day." Harrison wrinkled his nose.

They ate for a few minutes in silence, lost in their respective thoughts. "What are you doing today, Lumen?" Dexter questioned when he realized that she would be left alone to her own devices for the next several hours. He thought about what she had done when she'd been alone two years ago, resigned to stay in the house where his wife had died until he could escape from work long enough to fed and water her, like she was his pet. That Lumen had been nervous, agitated and anxious, pumped full of caffeine and rage. A little bit like the Lumen he was preparing to leave alone again. But he couldn't exactly take her to Miami Metro like it was bring your potential serial-killer house guest to work day.

Lumen shrugged one shoulder. "I want to go to the store and get some clothes, I'm tired of wearing…this." She looked down at her outfit. "No offense."

Dexter smiled. "None taken." Lumen dressed and smelling like Lumen wouldn't be something he would take offense to. "We could always grab lunch on my break."

Lumen couldn't help but smile. "Okay, that sounds good." She paused. "I mean, if you're sure you want to be seen in public with this." She gestured toward the mismatched bowling shirt and sweat pants combo.

"I think I can manage." Dexter assured her. "It's no worse than going out to eat with Deb and having people change tables because of her mouth." Which had happened on numerous occasions, each move accompanied with a death glare, to which Deb always promptly remarked, "What the fuck are you looking at?" in true Debra Morgan fashion.

Lumen laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, if you insist." Not that she was going to argue too hard against that suggestion.

Dexter smiled at her and nodded. "Sure. Noon? That little café by the water?" Lumen nodded. "Good. See you then." He got to his feet and had to resist the urge to lean over and kiss her on the forehead as a way of saying of a goodbye.

Instead, he turned to Harrison. "Go get your shoes on buddy." Harrison slipped out of his chair, slinking angrily off toward the door, shooting Lumen a look to let her know he wasn't soon going to forget her betrayal.

As could be expected, traffic was heavy on all streets and the air was full of blaring horns and swear words that almost put Deb's vocabulary to shame. Harrison didn't seem any happier by the time they arrived at his pre-school but at least he didn't fight his father when Dexter dropped him off in his classroom. After a quick stop by the doughnut shop on the corner, Dexter pulled into the parking lot outside the Miami Metro offices, which were, unfortunately, much more populated than they had been on his last visit. Hopefully he would still be able to snag a few minutes alone to look up missing persons' from Minnesota.

Dexter stepped into the elevator, waiting impatiently for the doors to slide shut. Just before they closed completely, a hand managed to slip through, causing the doors to jerk back open. A whip thin blonde who seemed to be all angles was standing just outside the elevator, dressed in an ensemble that was just as sharp as the rest of her. She smiled at Dexter as she stepped into the cab. "You have no idea how hard it can be to get an elevator in this place."

Dexter smiled and nodded but didn't say anything because, frankly, he had more important things on his mind that making small talk with strangers. But that didn't seem to deter the woman, which was completely baffling to him. In all the years that he'd spent learning how to be normal, observing men and women to see how normal people should act and respond, he'd never figured out why women were so completely attracted to assholes or guys who didn't give them the time of day. "Ooh, I'm heading to that floor too!" The woman practically jumped in excitement. "I can't believe I'm meeting a co-worker all ready. You do work for homicide, right?" She fixed her brown eyes on him hopefully.

Again, Dexter nodded, his smile tighter and more forced than it had been before. "Oh, good, me too. As of, well, today. Today is my first day. I'm Carolina. I'm new. Duh," she giggled, "I'm sure you figured that out all ready."

Dexter raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I got that." The woman smiled at him, still undeterred by his comments (or lack thereof) but clearly waiting for something. "I'm Dexter." He supplied. "I'm the blood-splatter analyst."

Carolina's eyes seemed to light up. "Oh, blood, that's so exciting." Dexter raised an eyebrow. "I've seen all those _CSI_ shows and blood is always a crucial part in finding the right guy."

Thankfully, the elevator creaked to a stop and the doors slid open. Forgetting his manners, Dexter was first out of the cab, hurrying to where there were other people who could distract the over-eager Carolina. He didn't have a problem with new recruits, but he didn't need a new recruit who was going to moon over him while tracking his every step like a puppy dog.

Luck seemed to be on Dexter's side that morning, because Vince Masuka and Angel Batista were standing close to the entrance, engaged in an animated conversation. Dexter quickly headed for them, hoping that they would prove to be a distraction for Carolina. "Hey guys, doughnut?" He flipped open the box and thrust it between them. "How were your holidays?"

Vince eagerly reached for one of the doughnuts, licking his lips. "It was festive, if you know what I'm saying." He grinned at Dexter and Batista around a mouthful of powdered sugar.

Batista shook his head. "None for me, I'm still full from the delicious food Maria's been cooking all weekend." He grinned at the memory. "Being home with the baby gives her plenty of time to watch those cooking shows."

Thanksgiving was quickly replaced as a topic as soon as Vince spied Carolina standing slightly behind Dexter. "And who might you be?" He grinned at her, beckoning her forward. "Are you lost? I would be more than happy to help you find your way." He winked.

Carolina smiled, clearly not put off by Vince either. Dexter was starting to suspect there was something wrong with this woman. "I'm Carolina, I'm the new detective. I just transferred from Atlanta."

Vince raised his eyebrows. "Excellent, a new recruit. I can definitely show you around."

"There's not a lot to show, is there Masuka?" Deb came through the glass doors, cup of coffee in one hand and look on her face that was more agitated than usual. "You better back off before someone else reports you for sexual harassment."

Vince bristled. "Hey, that was consensual, whatever that secretary says."

Dexter decided this was the perfect time to slip out and unnoticed into his office. Hopefully Deb's all too witty banter and Carolina would keep Vince occupied long to let him search the NCIC without attracting any unnecessary attention.

Depositing the doughnut box on the first desk he passed, Dexter slipped into the lab and shut the door behind him. He booted up the computer, tapping his foot impatiently as it hummed to life, finally producing a desktop and icons. Thankfully, the Internet was back in business, eliminating the prospect of a lot of angry detectives with guns.

Once the NCIC had loaded, Dexter typed in the keywords that he hoped would (not) produce any information about what Lumen's sleeping psyche might be leading her. He didn't know anything about the age, race, gender or physical qualities of any innocent victims, so it wasn't as though he could narrow his search down to anything past Minnesota in the span of the last four months.

His search only returned two hits. Dexter felt something settle in his stomach that he couldn't exactly explain; it was like a snake, beginning to uncoil, making the breakfast he'd eaten feel cold and greasy in his stomach. Two missing persons. Two potential victims. Proof that Lumen might be right about her Darkness? Dexter tried to force himself to be rational, to study the evidence just like he would if he were stalking a victim down in sunny Miami but his mind was all ready starting to buck against rationality. He didn't want it to be Lumen, he didn't want her to have anything to do with it. He wanted to wake up every morning to find to she'd made his arm go numb because she found comfort in his presence, whether he would admit that to himself or not. But if Lumen was killing, even subconsciously, he could not ignore the Code. Could he?

Dexter clicked on the first missing person: a woman, twenty-five years old, short, curvy, brunette. Her name was Juliet Seyfried and she was teller at a bank. She'd disappeared just before the holiday weekend, last seen leaving a book store. No one had seen or heard anything suspicious. Dexter thought about Lumen's words, her confession: blood on her hands. He squinted his eyes shut and shook his head. Coincidence.

The second victim was a man, thirty-six, a dishwasher at some café with a ridiculous name. His wife had reported that he'd never returned home from work one night about two months ago. When Lumen had first suspected herself of sleepwalking. Dexter had to admit that it sounded ludicrous that Lumen could overpower a thirty-six year old man who was nearly a foot taller than she was and looked like he might be able to bench press her. But still, Dexter knew that the Dark Passenger could call up strength from a reserve that never seemed to exist in any other time. And Lumen was nothing if not strong and determined.

The door to the lab swung open and Deb walked in before he could minimize the screen. She stopped whatever she was about to say when she saw what he'd pulled up on the computer. "What the fuck are you doing looking up missing persons in Minnesota?" She questioned brusquely, clearly having left her clean mouth behind at Quinn's parents' house.

Dexter stared at her and then glanced at the screen. "I…uh…cross referencing. Probably nothing." Quickly, he closed out of the NCIC. Hopefully Deb wouldn't ask for clarification.

Thankfully, Deb had something else on her mind, so she was more than happy to drop the subject. "I need to talk to you." She crossed her arms over her chest.

Dexter waited a beat before saying, "Okay…" just in case Deb needed to ascertain that he was listening.

"Not here." Deb looked at him like he'd gone crazy. She glanced over her shoulder, peering out the windows that looked out on all the desks and busy worker bees. "Lunch."

Dexter pursed his lips. "I can't, Deb, I've all ready got plans." He thought about Lumen and how she'd smiled when he'd invited her to lunch. Those thoughts were aborted by ones of Juliet Seyfried and Robert Gomez, the dishwasher. Which Lumen was the real one? Though he knew from experience that a person didn't just have one identity lurking inside of them.

Deb narrowed her eyes. "Jesus Christ, Dex, it's important." The look in her eyes suggested that it was, that she wanted to do more than just catch up on how his holiday had been. She looked desperate, eager to talk now but unwilling to do so. "I really need to talk to you."

Dexter hoped that Deb didn't hear the sigh that escaped his lips. Lumen would understand. "Okay, yeah, sure, absolutely."

Smiling, Deb gave him a sisterly punch to the shoulder. "Thanks Dexter." Without another word, she turned and left the lab, rolling her eyes at Masuka as he tried to brush against her as stepped inside.

Masuka dropped into his chair, rolling it beside Dexter so he could peek out the window. Carolina appeared to be avidly introducing herself to the rest of the detectives, mouth moving a mile a minute as she shook hands with Quinn. Deb had retreated into her office, shutting the door behind her. Dexter watched as Quinn shook hands with Carolina but gave his attention toward Deb's closed office door. Was he about to cancel his plans with Lumen in order to offer his sister more romantic advice?

"She's hot." Masuka's words interrupted Dexter's thoughts and he looked at the man with a raised eyebrow. "That new girl." His eyes hadn't left Carolina since he'd walked into the lab. "Think she'd go on a date with me? I've heard that Southern girls are crazy in bed. I could dig that accent."

Dexter clapped the man on the shoulder. "There's only one way to know." He remarked cheerily, even though he wanted to tell him exactly what Deb would have: no fucking way man.

Somehow, Masuka managed to be convinced to roll back to his corner of the lab and actually get to work, though that didn't stop him from talking almost constantly about his Thanksgiving with some woman he'd picked up the night before or what he believed to be Carolina's attributes. Dexter had had more than enough practice in blocking the man out, but he couldn't keep his thoughts from moving toward ones that were less work related. Shortly after Deb's visit, he'd sent Lumen a text canceling their plans; she'd been understanding but he wondered if that was only the words on screen that gave that impression.

Instead of concentrating on the cases that were still stacked on his desk, Dexter dedicated his time to researching the two missing persons from Minneapolis. Little was known about the circumstances surrounding the disappearances, which was unfortunately very frustrating. The two disappearances were not being connected and there was no reason that they should be, seeing as the victims had absolutely nothing in common, except for the fact that they both disappeared late in the evening and hadn't been heard from since. Dexter even tried to dig up information about Juliet and Robert, hoping that he would find a rap sheet or some indicator that Lumen's Dark Passenger had noble intentions. But the only negative thing he could discover about Juliet Seyfried was that she liked to drink a little too much on Saturday nights and liked to moan about her regrets Sunday morning via Facebook. Robert Gomez seemed to be a private man who had nothing more than a single speeding ticket to blemish his record.

Before Dexter was even aware of it, the day had slid into afternoon and Deb was bustling into the office yet again, her impatience showing. "Let's go, I'm starving." She said without preamble and Dexter didn't hesitate, hopping up from his chair and following her into the elevator.

"Where's Quinn?" He questioned innocently. Deb punched the button on the elevator but didn't bother to reply.

Despite her previous insistence that she was starving, Deb didn't so much as pick at her food once they had ordered and taken their spot at a tiny patio table outside their favorite sandwich shop.

Dexter took a bite of his sandwich, realizing that he hadn't eaten since breakfast with Lumen. When it became clear that Deb wasn't going to initiate the conversation, despite her claims that it was important, he cleared his throat. "So…"

He didn't have to say anything more. "Quinn asked me to marry him." Deb blurted without further encouragement.

Dexter didn't have to fake the smile that spread across his face, he didn't have to remind himself how normal people would react in this situation, his heart did that for him. "That's great!" His tone, like his grin, were completely genuine, full of the same brotherly love he'd felt in his dream several nights before when he'd seen Deb in her wedding gown. Maybe he wasn't giving dreams enough credit. "Congratulations." He started to get up to hug her but Deb waved him back down again.

"I didn't say yes." Dexter blinked at her. "I didn't say no either. I just said…" What were her exact words? Oh right Jesus Christ holy mother of fuck. "I needed to think about it."

Dexter shook his head, smirking slightly. "Oh Deb." He could only imagine how Quinn was feeling at this point. He remembered what it had been like trying to ask Rita to marry him and he was only doing that out of convenience; Quinn really loved Deb, so having his marriage proposal not so warmly received had to be very hard on the poor guy. He'd turned down a promotion that would have required him to move back to Boston just to stick around his girlfriend and now he had to be wondering what Deb thought about their whole relationship. "Why?"

Deb scowled at him. "I don't know. I…it caught me completely off guard, I had no idea he was going to do that."

Dexter wondered if that was true or just wishful thinking on her part. "How did he propose?"

Before she could stop it, a smile flitted across Deb's lips but she pursed them. "Before we left, he took me to this park he used to go to as a kid and-" She stopped and narrowed her eyes at her brother. "You know, it really doesn't matter. And what do you care, since when are you Mr. Fucking Romantic?"

Dexter shrugged, smirking at Deb's reaction. "Just asking." He took another bite of his sandwich before pointing at Deb's still untouched one. "I thought you were starving."

Deb waved her hand dismissively. "I can't eat at a time like this, Dex. What am I supposed to say to Quinn."

"Deb, why did you tell Quinn you needed to think about it?" Dexter questioned and received no response. "I thought you had…feelings for him." He felt like he was treading into dangerous territory here, trying to understand to inner workings of the female mind. Deb's mind was even more treacherous.

"Of course I have feelings for him; Jesus Christ, Dexter, I'm in love with him." Deb shook her head, as though she couldn't understand how she'd ended up with a brother who was so impossibly dense.

Dexter raised an eyebrow. "So why…?" He decided it was best to let Deb fill in the blanks herself.

Sighing, Deb looked down at her untouched food, shaking her head. She was silent for several minutes and Dexter knew better than to try and interrupt her again when she was busy trying to collect her thoughts and organize everything so that it could begin to make sense to her.

When Deb lifted her eyes again, Dexter was surprised to see that they were watery and full with unshed tears and regret. "I don't know Dexter." Her voice was soft, almost unrecognizable, lacking the Deb ferocity that he's heard throughout his life. When he was a teenager, hearing the snarl in her voice used to make him want to rip his hair out, mostly because she was using it on him because of some infraction he'd committed against her (imagined or otherwise). But now he wished that he could hear that now, because this Deb was new, different and heartbreaking. "I was…I am…I just don't want to ruin it. I don't want to hurt him."

Dexter reached out and put his hand over hers. "Deb, Quinn asked you. You. And…"

Deb's iPhone began chiming before Dexter could finish and her eyes immediately fell to the device on the table. Seconds later, Dexter's started beeping as well. They met eyes across a plate of barely eaten sandwiches.

Deb got to her feet, her emotions hidden behind a steely all-business glare. "We have to go."

**TBC**


	9. It's the Wrong Kind of Place

**A/N**: Again, thanks to everyone for the awesome reviews, they give me a reason to check my e-mail in the middle of class! I hope you like this next chapter, let me know what you think!

**It's the Wrong Kind of Place**

**To Be Thinking of You**

Dexter knew that things were bad because instead of sending them down some seedy backstreet in Miami, the message simply told them both to head back to the station. Dexter drove because Deb was using her hands to fret nervously, wringing her fingers and tapping them anxiously against the window or her knees. He didn't know if she was anxious because of the abnormal message or because of the unresolved conversation about Quinn. Either way, only the radio made conversation as they weaved in and out of traffic.

Dexter was even more convinced that something was wrong when the elevator slid up to their floor and the doors whooshed open to reveal the detectives and vice officers gathered around their desks, not sitting, half-standing, looking somber and shocked and a little impatient, like they weren't really sure what they were supposed to be doing. Deb had regained her brusque demeanor with every floor so by the time she strode through the glass doors she was back to her bulldog self and then some. She took in the faces of those around her. "What the fuck is going on?"

Quinn stepped away from his desk and over to Deb. When he took her hand, she didn't move away. "It's Maria."

* * *

Now that she was dead it somehow seemed better to call her Maria instead of Lieutenant or LaGuerta, which had seemed only fitting when she'd been running the station. People who didn't even really seem to have known her that well were suddenly calling her Maria, at least that was how it seemed to Dexter as they approached the crime scene, having all traveled together as a unit in a show of solidarity. It had seemed like a better idea to tell everyone together, instead of sending them off individually to come face to face with what had happened to their one time supervisor.

In the hot Miami sun, the cracked asphalt of the parking lot where Maria LaGuerta had been shot rippled like a mirage in the middle of the desert. The caution tape was barely doing its job of keeping the on-lookers away from the scene of post holiday blood-shed, though Dexter was hardly surprised by the amount of people that had gathered at Miami's latest tragedy.

He and Deb ducked underneath the tape, flashing their badges to the appropriately saddened beat cops that stood around the flimsy barricade and shooed away people asking questions or trying to take pictures. Behind them Quinn, Masuka and a pale-faced Carolina followed closely; she was pulling anxiously at the collar of her blouse, which was rumpled and quickly wilting in the heat. Batista was no where to be found, which made sense to Dexter. He had a young daughter to take care of now, just one more child born in blood.

The best that the first cops on the scene could do to spare LaGuerta for further indecency (as if having her life ended in a parking lot outside of a grocery store wasn't indecent enough) was to cover her with a thin white sheet, which was stained crimson at the top, but she hadn't been moved from her original position. This was a crime scene too important to mess up through simple police errors or destroyed evidence.

Dexter knelt down beside the body, letting his eyes travel across the sheet and the cracked asphalt, which was spotted with blood. A scene like this was incredibly straight forward, almost insultingly so and the only mysteries to solve were who the shooter was and why they'd decided to gun down an ex-Lieutenant with an infant daughter. But it wasn't like they would all stand around let themselves be excluded.

While Dexter went through the motions, knowing that he wasn't really needed, he listened to Deb interviewing one of the witnesses a few feet behind him. Deb had her hands clasped tightly together, her face barely managing to hide the raw emotion that was threatening to break free. "Just…tell it exactly like you remember it." Deb instructed the witness.

The witness was a nervous looking middle aged woman, who looked like she was dressed for the gym, not for grocery shopping. She kept trying to avoid looking at LaGuerta but her eyes kept falling down to the sheet. "My car is right there," she pointed to the mini-van parked right next to LaGuerta's car, "I was putting away my groceries and all the sudden I just heard this shot, so loud I thought I was going to go deaf. I heard the sound, like something heavy hitting the ground, so I turned around and I saw that poor woman, lying there on the ground." She broke off, her voice choking with the emotion of seeing a woman killed right in front of her.

Deb tapped her foot impatiently. "And what about the shooter? Did you see him?"

"Oh, it was a woman. I didn't see much but it was definitely a woman." The witness assured Deb.

Deb raised an eyebrow. "A woman?" She pulled a notepad from her pocket. "Can you describe her?"

Dexter stood, wiping dirt and grit from the knees of his pants, trying not to admit that he was listening.

There was a pause and the woman shifted, clearly trying to bring up a clear picture of the shooter from the memories colored red by blood. "She…uh…I don't know she was wearing a hoodie but she was blonde. I'm pretty sure she was blonde."

Dexter was sure that out of all the billions of people in the world, more than half of them were bound to be blonde. Especially in Miami. But that didn't stop his thoughts from immediately jumping to Lumen, seeing her as she sat at his kitchen table, confessing her worries about being controlled by her Darkness. He was sure the connection came from the fact that Lumen was so fresh in his mind, with the information he'd found on the NCIC and the earlier conversation about marriage, otherwise he never would have thought about her. After all, even the most reckless Dark Passenger wouldn't guide her to a supermarket in the middle of the day and have her shoot someone in the back of the head. Though Dexter couldn't help but remember the time when he'd found Lumen under the bridge, ready to kill a man with a gun and shaky hands.

Quickly, Dexter shook his head, banishing those thoughts from his mind. He was far too rational to be thinking like this.

Deb was taking down the witness' information, assuring her that she would be getting a call if she had more questions in the future. She turned to look at Dexter and she slipped the notepad back into her pocket. "This is fucked up." She shook her head, looking back at LaGuerta. "I mean, she was a bitch but she didn't deserve this." Coming from Deb, Dexter figured that was saying a lot. "This is just…God…there's some fucking asshole out there shooting cops." Her hands tightened into fits, her knuckles going white. "And Angel…God fuck…" She shook her head.

Dexter wasn't sure what he could say that would make Deb feel better, so he just decided not to say anything at all. Deb needed the rage over what happened to Maria and the sadness over what was happening to Batista fuel her police work and determination to find the woman who had killed LaGuerta. He knew that her mind would be occupied by nothing other than thoughts of avenging the death of her one time superior. Which reminded him… "Look, you don't have to take Harrison tonight, he'll understand." He assured his sister.

Deb gave him a look like he'd lost his mind. Deb had made a Monday night ritual of taking Harrison for some Auntie and Me time, even before Harrison was really old enough to remember their one-on-one time. Now Harrison looked forward to the weekly ritual (even though hardly a week went by when he only saw Deb once), eager to go out for pizza and play catch in the park with Quinn, who seemed to be prepping Harrison for his first little league team five years away. "It's Monday, isn't it? I'll take him." Deb assured her brother. "Besides, I'm going to need to keep my mind off this." She gestured toward LaGuerta, laying exposed to detectives who were trying to gather evidence and snap photographs with detached professionalism.

Dexter nodded, unable to keep from thinking that with Harrison out of the house, there would be nothing to keep him from talking to Lumen.

* * *

When Lumen opened her eyes, the bedroom was bathed in the warm oranges and reds of a sun setting across Miami. She had no idea where the time had gone. It had been a little before lunch when she'd decided to take advantage of Dexter's cancellation, deciding to take a nap after her shopping trip, figuring that she'd be lucky to get half an hour of sleep. But, it seemed as though the combination of five nights of restless sleep and the comforting smell of Dexter that was held in his sheets had lulled her into a sleep deep enough to last the next several hours.

Briefly, Lumen closed her eyes again, wondering if she'd be able to drift back into sleep, but she didn't get the chance to find out because her phone started ringing on the pillow beside her head. Without looking at the screen, Lumen flipped her phone open. "Hello?" She wondered if she sounded as irritated as she felt.

There was a brief silence. "Lumen." Lumen's eyes popped open at the sound of her mother's voice on the other end of the line. "So you do remember how to answer your phone."

Lumen decided it was best not to respond. She doubted that her mother would enjoy hearing that she hadn't forgotten how to answer her phone, she'd just been hitting the reject button whenever HOME showed up on the caller ID. "I know you're listening, Lumen." Her mother seemed undeterred by her silence. "You don't have to say anything, I just want you to listen closely." These were directions that she could handle. "I don't know where you are and I don't know what's going on with you. But I'm tired of it and I'm tired of you constantly subjecting this family to worrying about where you are and what's going on. This is a _family_, Lumen, and you're acting like a completely selfish child." Lumen felt anger begin to rise inside of her. "So I'm calling to tell you this: if you decide not to come home for Christmas, then don't bother coming home at all."

Lumen wasn't sure how to feel. She had never been close to her mother, she'd even resented her mother for some of the things that had happened in her life, but no child wanted to be told never to return home. She wanted to cry or beg, confess every deep dark scar and secret to her mother. But at the same time, it was almost freeing, a release to be without constraints or ties to the Lumen that had died a long time ago. She was free, she could do whatever she wanted. She could stay in Miami…but she didn't want to let her thoughts run away with her.

"Lumen? Are you listening to me?" Now it seemed as though her silence was no required.

Lumen pursed her lips. "Goodbye Mother." She flipped her phone shut and tossed it across the room. Hopefully, no one would try to get in touch with her.

For a minute, Lumen laid on her back with her eyes fixed on the cracks in the ceiling. Prior to the call from her mom, she'd felt better than she had in years, rejuvenated and ready to face the world. She wondered if it was Dexter or the nap that was making her feel so much more capable. But now, talking to her mother had left a bad taste in her mouth and she had to fight the urge to get up and scream everything she ever wanted to say to her mother to the empty apartment but she had the feeling that would result in collateral damage and she doubted Dexter would like coming home to find his stuff broken. She thought about her mother's ultimatum and it made her feel lonely and sick all at once. She understood where her mother was coming from, she hated herself for continuously doing these things to her family but she didn't think she would be ready to return home by Christmas. Not if she still had her Darkness and not if it meant leaving Dexter again. She knew it was too early to think like that and maybe it was too egotistical of herself to think that Dexter would even still be interested in her, that he was letting her stay for any reason other than obligation. But, she still let her thoughts carry her away from time to time.

Lumen was still laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about her mother's words, when she heard the front door open and click shut again. "Lumen!" Harrison's voice rang out through the apartment as soon as he'd stepped inside. "I made you something!"

A smile turned up the corners of her lips, banishing the negative feelings that had slipped into her body since talking to her mother. Before she could untangle herself from the sheets, the bedroom door opened and Dexter came into the room; Lumen was surprised at how happy she was to see him. But, Dexter didn't exactly look happy to see her; the sight of her seemed to make him nervous and anxious all in one brief moment before he managed to compose his features and look like his usual blank slate. "Are you feeling sick?" He questioned neutrally, as though the only explanation he could think of for being in bed at five in the afternoon was sickness.

"No." Lumen sat up, pushing away from the tangled covers. Dexter sat down on the bed beside her. Though there were several bags of brand new clothes tossed in the corner, she was still wearing his sweats and bowling shirt. "How was work?"

Dexter debated how to answer. He was surprised to realize that he wanted to tell Lumen about his day, about Deb and hearing the news about LaGuerta. He had never wanted to willingly share the details of his day to day with anyone but suddenly he wanted to sit beside her and tell her how finding out about LaGuerta had hurt more than he'd expected. He was an imperfect monster now, hindered by feelings that he'd rather not experience at all. Especially because those same feelings were telling him that his feelings for Lumen had never gone away and were trying to convince him that things could actually work _this_ time. The reason he'd always tried to keep his feelings at bay were because they conflicted with rational thought.

"Dexter?" Lumen reached out to touch his hand and he jumped, not realizing that he was so lost in thought. Quickly, Lumen snatched her hand away. "Is everything all right?"

Dexter started to nod then stopped himself. "No." Why was it that he always seemed to be the most honest with those that might not have long to keep his secrets. Or was it the fact that she was Lumen who had elicited such a candid response? Lumen started to speak but her interrupted. "Would you like to get dinner? We can talk then."

The smile Lumen gave him was equal to the grin she'd grinned at breakfast, like she was the mousy outcast and he the popular jock who'd just asked her to the prom. Funny, he'd never imagined his life like a teen comedy before.

Harrison came running into the bedroom, jumping onto the bed and crawling over Dexter to get to Lumen. He thrust a piece of paper into her hands. "I made you this." He declared proudly.

Lumen smiled as she studied the picture, which was comprised of a bunch of multi-colored tornado-like squiggles and what Lumen suspected was a bird (possibly a panda bear) in the middle. "That's you." Harrison pointed at the panda-bird and smiled at her proudly.

While Lumen had no idea how that shape was supposed to resemble a human being, she gave Harrison a grateful hug anyway. "I love it."

Dexter ruffled his son's tow-head. "Go pack some things for Aunt Deb's, okay big guy?" Harrison scampered off toward his room. Lumen gave Dexter a questioning look. "Deb always takes Harrison out for dinner Monday nights, it's their tradition."

Lumen raised an eyebrow. "So Harrison won't be going to dinner with us? Dexter Morgan, is that a date?" She smirked.

Dexter thought about the few dates he'd been on in his life, how things always went from bad to awkward and sometimes even resulted in heated words and tears. He looked at Lumen and could only hope their evening out would end differently. "I hope not."

* * *

Deb and Quinn showed up an hour later to collect Harrison. Dexter glanced down to see that Deb was now sporting a new piece of jewelry on her ring finger and he had to admit that Quinn had done well in that department. He wondered if he was supposed to have a brotherly talk with Quinn, welcome him into the family and have a trite conversation that would make them both feel awkward. Was that his duty as an older brother? Instead, he just gave Quinn a nod, figuring that was enough.

Harrison walked into the living room dragging behind him the canvas bag he always insisted on packing with toys and coloring books and stuffed animals even though none of the things ever left the bag because he was too busy running around the park with Quinn or playing ski-ball with Deb. But he was determined not to leave home without the bag, so Dexter decided there was no point in arguing with his son.

Deb scooped the boy into her arms, cuddling him to her. The tension and anger that Dexter had seen on his sister's face since the morning seemed to have disappeared all of the sudden; Harrison often seemed to have that effect on people. He moved away from his aunt, attracted by the ring glinting on her finger. "What's that?" He ran his fingers over the stone.

Deb flushed but couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Well…uh…Quinn and I are getting married." Dexter could tell that she found the words strange and foreign coming out of her mouth but her smile only grew wider.

Harrison looked at Quinn skeptically over Deb's shoulder. "Him?"

Deb laughed, putting Harrison down. "Yeah, him." She raised an eyebrow. "Is that okay?"

Harrison studied Quinn closely, as though he'd never met the man before, even though, at times, he had been like a second father. Dexter was impressed by his son's technique; maybe he should take notes. "Yeah, okay." Harrison agreed, nodding.

Quinn smiled, giving Harrison a high five. "How 'bout pizza to celebrate?" Harrison grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

Goodbyes and hugs were exchanged and the three of them stepped out of the apartment and back into the unseasonable November heat. Though it was a school night, Dexter knew that they probably wouldn't be back for the next several hours, though it didn't bother him as much as it probably should have because, though he was reluctant to admit it, he was looking forward to having this time with just Lumen. Since her return, Harrison's presence had always been there, making it harder for both of them to be as relaxed as they had been before. But now, for the next several hours at least, he hoped he was going to be able to see Lumen as she truly was. Hopefully, that candor would reveal whether his suspicions were warranted or just unfortunate coincidence.

The bedroom door opened and after a brief hesitation, Lumen stepped into the hallway. She had decided it was best to remain out of sight when Deb and Quinn arrived to collect Harrison in order to avoid causing trouble, though Dexter suspected that there was a small part of her mind that was paranoid that something about her would reveal to Deb that she was the vigilante that she hadn't brought to justice two years ago.

Clearly, Lumen's shopping trip had been a successful one. She was wearing a sundress of vibrant pinks, purples and blues, the type of flare that could only be found in Miami. It fell just above her knees and left her shoulders and back bare; her hair fell across her shoulders, curling at the ends. Dexter could tell that she was trying to make a good impression without looking like she was trying to hard; she wanted to look nice on their evening out without making it look like she had any sort of expectations. Well, she definitely looked nice. Dexter swallowed.

Lumen flushed under his attention. "I should change." She looked down at the dress to avoid meeting his gaze. She couldn't tell much from Dexter's face, as usual, only this time his concealed emotions were proving to be very annoying. She was starting to think that she'd over-dressed, that Dexter was going to think that she thought that they were a real couple, that this was a real date with romantic intentions. What an idiot. Why had she bought this stupid dress in the first place? What exactly was she thinking would happen?

Dexter cleared his throat. "No, it's fine. It looks fine." He assured her and Lumen looked up at him. "It's...hot outside, the dress makes sense."

"Are you sure it looks all right?" Dexter just nodded. "I don't think I've worn a dress in years," Lumen admitted self-coconsciously, "because of…" Lumen turned so that he could see her back, the criss-cross of scars on otherwise unblemished skin. Signs of a violence that would have been impossible to explain. "Maybe I should change…"

Dexter realized he'd just gotten his wish to see Lumen as she truly was, bare and candid. This was the other part of Lumen that Jordan Chase had also made two years ago, neglecting to realize that it was impossible to forge something in fire without the burn. Lumen's strength, the hardness and the fire that had been created within her had led to her survival and had ostracized her from those she cared about, forcing her to stand outside the fringes of the life she'd had before, no longer able to belong to a family that could never fathom what type of evil truly dwelled in the world. It had made her a sort of leper, hiding her thoughts, her body from those around her; she'd had to keep more than just the emotional scars a secret.

"No." Dexter said, stopping her as she prepared to turn back toward the bedroom. "Don't hide them."

Lumen looked almost surprised by his words but not unpleased; she looked almost relieved. Dexter wondered what Jordan Chase would think of her now, how natural human weakness and vulnerability had melded with the avenging angel he had created. He couldn't help but wonder if that was all that Jordan had created, if the evidence of violence that he'd found today was just another result.

**TBC**


	10. For We Are Bound by Symmetry

**A/N: **Wow, sorry it's been so long since I've updated. School is crazy and I just started a new job but I promise I'll be better in the future! As always, thanks for the amazing reviews, I can't wait to hear what you guys think about this next chapter. Enjoy!

**And How It Whispered 'Oh Adhere to Me**

**For We are Bound by Symmetry' **

As of late, there were many things that Lumen hated about herself: new developments that had sprung up over the past two years, little ticks or quirks that made her annoyed or frustrated but that wouldn't go away. Of course, there were things she hated about herself that had developed long before Jordan Chase's influence: her seeming inability to stick with anything she started, her penchant to run when she was scared, the fact that she always hurt what she loved more than anything. And the fact that when she was nervous it showed, not on her face, but in her hands, which wouldn't stop moving, no matter how many commands she sent to her nerves. At the moment, her hands were as busy as ever, twisting her hair, smoothing her dress, fumbling with the four-leaf clover necklace, punching buttons on the radio. If Dexter noticed, he didn't say anything, though he kept casting glances over at her, especially during her radio-surfing craze.

Finally, Dexter reached out and put his hand over hers, moving it away from the buttons and laying it in her lap. Briefly, his hand stayed over hers, like he was trying to anchor it in place. "Where do you want to eat?" He questioned as he put both hands back on the wheel.

Lumen shrugged, jiggling her knee. "Wherever." She put a hand over her knee, forcing it to the stay still. This was really getting ridiculous; she hadn't been this nervous since her first real date back in high school and that had been ten years ago. And this was Dexter, just Dexter, the man who had saved her life, who had risked his for her, who had seen her kill two men and smiled. Why the nervous hands? What exactly was she expecting out of this night?

They drove down by the pier, where they had gone several nights before everything with Jordan Chase had finally come to a head. Despite its position in chronological events, this place held nothing but good memories for her and Lumen found that her hands didn't feel so busy anymore. They parked and stepped out into the humid heat, causing Lumen to wonder why she'd ever even bothered trying to style her hair at all. It was going to be flat and frizzy before she even shut her car door; her Minnesota tresses just weren't used to this.

As they walked, they walked in silence and Lumen wasn't sure if it was the comfortable kind or the awkward kind. Dexter seemed lost in thought and she wondered if she should try to break his reverie or if she should just assume that he would talk when he was ready. A part of her hoped that he was thinking about her. Of course, she had no way of knowing that he was, indeed, thinking of her, but not in the way that she hoped he was. He wondered where the nervous and anxious behavior he'd noticed from her stemmed from: was she jittery because of their impending date (that he could understand, he was a little nervous and dry-mouthed himself) or because of something she had done earlier. Was she anxious because she had murdered someone earlier that day, because she had murdered two people back in Minnesota, and the strain and memories were starting to catch up with her?

Dexter stopped in front of a small, hole in the wall place that he would never have even known was there if he hadn't been introduced to it by Deb and one her momentary flings on some awkward double date. Though the night hadn't ended well, at least he'd been introduced to a great new restaurant that was never too crowded, with decent service and a patio that looked out over the pier. "What about this?" He gestured at the restaurant, looking over at Lumen.

Lumen tried to read the name but it wasn't Spanish for tourists so she didn't recognize a word. "Sure." As always, she didn't have trouble trusting Dexter.

They got a table right away and were one of four couples sitting out on the patio. As she sat, Lumen looked out at the water and all the lights reflected across the surface; somewhere out there, Jordan Chase and the four other monsters who had changed her life floated beneath the waves. Were the garbage bags that held them still intact or had they torn, making them an easy meal for fish? Thinking about fish nibbling on Cole Harmon's face made her smile.

"What?" Dexter questioned, raising an eyebrow. He liked the way a smile could transform her entire face.

Lumen shook her head. "Nothing. So what's good here?"

* * *

Throughout dinner, the conversation topics managed to avoid anything serious. Dexter had yet to bring up the reason why he'd told her that everything was not okay and Lumen had yet to ask, even though she wanted to. Lumen hadn't told Dexter about the phone call from her mother and though he could tell there was something on her mind, he didn't bring it up. Instead, Dexter told her about Harrison and how when he'd started to learn to really talk, he'd gone through a phrase of just repeating everything that everyone said around him. While thankfully, Harrison had kept his dad's secrets safe, there'd been a period when it wasn't safe for him to leave the house because he was making use of Deb's colorful vocabulary. "We started making Deb give Harrison five dollars every time she swore around him; I swear she's going to help put him through college."

Lumen told him about trying to adjust back to life in Minnesota and moving back in with her parents, which had been as unfortunate as it sounded. "I got a job as a barista, making coffee in a bookstore downtown and half the time I wanted to tell these people they really didn't need any more caffeine in their system, they were all ready way too wound up." She laughed, shaking her head. "And I kept thinking 'If only my professors could see me now, steaming milk and wiping down tables. They'd be so proud.'"

Dexter tried to imagine Lumen working for minimum wage in a dirty apron but he just couldn't envision her putting up with the customers who really made her mad. "They might be, if you made a really good cup of coffee."

"I didn't, but I was really good a keeping things clean." Her busy hands definitely came in handy at work and undoubtedly tipped the scales in her favor because she'd yet to be fired, despite the fact that she often mixed up the orders or made them all wrong. Though, Lumen figured that she'd since been fired, seeing as she hadn't shown up for work for the past five days.

"What did you go to school for?" Dexter suddenly realized that there was so much that he didn't know about Lumen. It was amazing what normal information could get lost in the cracks when all that mattered was whether you could trust someone to keep secret the fact that you were a serial killer. He didn't know her favorite color but he knew that she could chop up a man and stick him in a garbage bag.

Lumen paused for a minute, pushing the remainder of her rice and beans around on the plate. "Social work. I wanted to help people." She shook her head, almost as though the idea was laughable now.

Dexter had to admit that if he had really thought about it, he probably would have guessed that whatever path Lumen had wanted to take in life, it would have involved helping someone else. Whenever he tried to imagine the woman she'd been before coming to Miami, he always saw her as someone good and kind, who was always considerate about others, before all that had been burned away by Chase and the others. "That would be a good job for you."

Lumen scoffed, shaking her head. "Right. I can't even help myself anymore."

* * *

After they finished their drinks and paid the bill, they started walking, past the shops and other restaurants and street vendors that were just getting started hawking their product. Dexter figured they had at least another hour before Deb brought Harrison home, if not a bit longer, so he didn't feel in any rush to end the evening. Was it because he didn't want to end this one on one time with Lumen or because he still hadn't discovered what he wanted to know about her inner psyche? Did it even matter?

As they walked, their shoulders brushed together and Lumen really wanted to curl their fingers together but didn't want to be presumptuous. But Dexter didn't seem opposed to the proximity and that was good enough for her.

They passed a gaggle of college age girls, who were gossiping and laughing amongst themselves as they passed them going the other way. One of the girls craned her neck to get a look at the patchwork of scars on her back, making a face and a barely whispered comment to the girl next to her. Lumen felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment and she wished that she had changed after all; avoiding moments like this were the reason she hadn't put on a dress in two years. She could feel the other girls' eyes on her, turning to look at what their friend had taken such an interest in.

Dexter glanced over his shoulder at the girls, who were still giggling inanely even though he could find nothing humorous in the situation. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lumen had her head bowed, her cheeks red with embarrassment, as though she, and not the idiotic coeds had something to be embarrassed about. Dexter wondered how long one of them would have lasted in the basement of the River Jordan Camp and whether any of them would have risen out of the ashes the way that Lumen had. He moved closer to her, putting his hand on the small of her back, his palm pressing against her scars, not hiding them from sight but instead acknowledging them and what they stood for. Dexter knew that they had a different meaning for Lumen than they did for him but that hardly seemed to matter at the moment, because he noticed that Lumen was holding her head a little higher than she had been seconds earlier.

When they finally reached the end of the pier they stood, leaning against the damp wooden railing that was supposed to prevent onlookers from tumbling into the water below. The wind, as lackluster as it was, blew Lumen's hair around her face but she didn't bother to try and tame it.

Dexter glanced over at her. "Those girls-"

But she was quick to interrupt. "I don't want to talk about them." Lumen said fiercely, keeping her eyes focused on the dark water that stretched out before them. Dexter didn't bother trying to press the issue.

"My mother called today." Lumen said after a few minutes had passed in silence, her shoulder against Dexter's, desperate to change the subject. Dexter looked over at her. "She didn't even ask how I was. She just told me that if I wasn't planning on being home for Christmas then I shouldn't bother coming home at all." She shook her head, keeping her gaze fixed out on the water to avoid meeting Dexter's eyes. She didn't want him to see the rejection and hurt that she felt over having been abandoned by her mother. She didn't think she deserved her sympathy, she had never sought it out before, but now that it was gone it was like there was a part of her that was gone too.

"You don't…have to stay." Dexter heard himself saying, even though that was not what he was feeling at the moment. "You can go back." He had gotten on without her before, he would somehow manage it again.

Lumen looked at him. "No." She was surprised by how adamant her voice was. "I mean…that's not…" She shook her head. "There's nothing left for me there. Even if all this…sleepwalking and weird dreams and uncertainty wasn't happening I still…I don't belong there anymore."

_And where do you belong? Here, with me? Could I belong to you?_ As if to answer his question, Lumen whispered, "I'm not sure where I belong."

Dexter so badly wanted to assure her that she could belong there, that they might belong to each other because wasn't that the point, weren't people supposed to find someone that they could exist with in the most honest way possible? Or was he just trying to make himself believe in fairy tales?

Instead, he just said, "It's all going to work out," a sentiment that didn't really make any sense and felt as empty and useless as it had when he'd read it on a fortune cookie. Lumen looked at him and he shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't know why I said that." He admitted.

Lumen smiled and nudged him, rolling her eyes at his words. "Do you think things work out? Really?" She questioned honestly, not trying to be sarcastic or pessimistic.

"Sure." Never for him though, it seemed. Or was all that about to change? "Deb's getting married."

Lumen brightened, just like Dexter hoped she would. "That's great. She deserves to be happy." Didn't everyone? Didn't she? "I thought you said you had a bad day today." She raised an eyebrow.

Dexter pursed his lips. Where to start? Between what he'd found on the NCIC and finding his old boss gunned down in a parking lot, it hadn't exactly been smooth sailing. But instead of telling Lumen about the missing persons, he said, "LaGuerta, the old Lieutenant down at the station, she was killed today." Lumen's eyes grew wide. "Someone shot her."

"That's horrible, I'm so sorry." Dexter could tell that Lumen's words were genuine, as though she had actually known the woman and would mourn her loss. Were they proof that she hadn't been behind the killing or were they just a clever way to throw him off the Passenger's trail? He knew more than enough about hiding what he was really feeling. "Do you know who did it?"

_It could have been you._ "No." Dexter shook his head, unable to look at Lumen as he spoke. "Not yet."

Lumen reached out and gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough." She said confidently, as though still under the naïve impression that police and detectives caught all wrong-doers. As though she hadn't seen first-hand how easy it was for some people to just slip through the cracks.

Dexter nodded but he wasn't entirely sure; if it turned out that the killer was Lumen, would he turn that evidence in to his sister? Would he hide the truth the way he had with Quinn? Would he take matters into his own hands or would he give her a free pass?

"I wonder where they're going." Lumen's words confused him until he realized that she had left the topic of LaGuerta's murder behind and was staring out at the freighters coming and going through the darkness. "I wonder what it's like to just move from place to place all the time."

Dexter turned his gaze to the freighter that was watching as it moved closer to the dock, preparing to unload it's cargo and pick up more crates and product. And endless moving cycle. "A lot of new beginnings."

Lumen looked over at him. "I don't think there's such a thing as a new beginning. Not anymore. I mean, look where starting over got me." She shook her head. "I've tried running, I've tried putting everything behind me and it just…it always just makes things worse." She was surprised when her tears pricked her eyes and looked away quickly before Dexter could see them. "I keep running from the things that really mean something, it's like I can't stop hurting the people that I love." She covered her mouth with her hand, either to suppress the sob that wanted to escape her throat or stop the words from coming she wasn't sure. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "What's wrong with me?"

For a minute, Dexter only looked at her, watching as she tried to fight down the tears that seemed to have been looking for an excuse to fall for several days. He knew there were moments in life when some invisible line was crossed and once that happened there was no going back; he had lived his life by refusing to cross those lines because he never wanted to be in a position where retreat was impossible. But dearly indecisive and indifferent Dexter was gone. He stepped toward Lumen and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest.

Lumen seemed to relax almost immediately, pressing herself against him as though she'd lost the energy to stand without his help. "I'm so sorry Dexter. I'm so sorry." She didn't try to stop from crying now, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her face into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you, I made a mistake."

Dexter rubbed her back, closing his eyes as he held her. He had wanted this for so long and now that he had her again, he remembered why he had missed her so much. He had felt empty without her, his missing piece. "It's okay." He whispered into her hair. "You're okay now."

"I was so stupid." If Lumen heard his words, she didn't take any comfort in them. "I don't know how I thought leaving you was the right thing to do." Dexter lifted her head from his chest, wiping her tears away with his thumb. But that only seemed to make more tears fall. "Dexter, I'm-"

Dexter knew that Lumen would continue this cyclical abuse until someone finally managed to convince her that it wasn't warranted. So he decided to shut her up the only way he knew how: he kissed her. He had never been the aggressive one when it came to Lumen, too afraid that initiating even the smallest gesture would scare her off. But it didn't seem like Lumen minded. It was like she had been waiting for that exact moment, that she had been ravenous for him, that there was some part of her that could only be sated through him. Or maybe that was how he felt. Dexter wondered if he had always resisted human contact because he was waiting for this moment and knew that nothing else would ever compare. Because Lumen knew who he was, inside and out, every part of him had been exposed to her and she didn't want to run the other way. Not anymore.

**TBC**


	11. Make It Go Away Without a Word

**A/N: **Good to see you guys all back again! Thanks for the lovely reviews (Jacqueline...I don't have a real life, are you kidding me? Sometimes I feel like _Dexter_ is my life hahaha), they are very encouraging! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well, let me know what you think!

**Make It Go Away Without a Word, But**

**Promise Me You'll Stay and Fix These Things I've Hurt**

Harrison was asleep by the time Quinn carried him back into the house with Deb trailing behind. They were both trying to be overly quiet but kept bumping into each other, stifling giggles and glaring at one another. After seeing Deb and Quinn coyly acting like teenagers who'd just shared their first kiss, Dexter couldn't help but wonder if all of Miami was sharing the elation that was slowly starting to creep into his system. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this sensation building inside his chest right where Harry had convinced him two decades ago his heart would never be. He'd lost it along with any normal sort of human emotions or reactions and he'd long since given up hope that there was anything that he could do to get it back again. He'd been born in blood, the human Dexter washed away with the crimson stains on his clothes and skin; he was like Lumen's velveteen rabbit, hoping to become real. But with his lips still warm from Lumen's kiss and where she'd laid her hands on his chest when he'd pulled her close, he still felt her touch, making him happy and hopeful in a way only she had done before.

Dexter laid Harrison down on his bed, pulling the covers tightly around his son's sleeping body. He didn't bother to try and put him in pajamas, because if Harrison woke up now no one in the house was going to be getting any sleep that night. The older Harrison got, the more it became clear that he was going to take after his father instead of his mother, at least in the looks department. Dexter didn't care about whether Harrison had his eyes or Rita's, he was just thankful that Harrison was going to have the childhood that he'd been denied so that looks were the only thing of his father's that he mirrored.

Shutting off the light, Dexter crept back to his bedroom, turning off the hall lights as he did so. When he opened the door, he thought he might be the only one in the apartment that was still awake because Lumen had all ready laid down in bed, still wearing her dress. But when he went to sit down beside her, her eyes opened and she turned to face him. "How's Harrison?" She questioned, her tone languid with oncoming sleep and contentment.

"Unconscious." Dexter laid down on the pillow that Lumen was currently occupying, resting his head against her shoulder. Now that he'd crossed that line that had existed only in his mind, it was like he couldn't keep himself from touching her, even if it was in the smallest of ways, as though he had to keep reassuring himself that she was real, just like he had two years ago whenever he unlocked the door to the home he'd once shared with Rita and wasn't convinced that he hadn't just dreamed up Lumen until he laid eyes on her again. But he'd all ready lost her once before, so he figured a little reassurance that she was still there wasn't uncalled for. He was trying not to think about her walking out that door again. "Deb and Quinn always tire him out."

Lumen was silent for a minute, tracing circles on Dexter's palm with her thumb. "I have a niece." She said finally. "My older brother's daughter. She's seven now. I wish I had spent more time with her." She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I doubt she even misses me."

Dexter lifted his head so that he could study Lumen's face. He wished he had known who she'd been before her ill-fated trip to Miami but at the same time, he was glad that he had met her when he did, otherwise he doubted he would have ever attracted her attention. Or was he being pessimistic? Was it tragedy and violence that had brought them together or something more? "I'm sure she misses you."

Lumen opened her eyes and gave him a doubtful look. "That's nice of you to say, Dexter, but I doubt that anyone back home misses me." Especially not if the conversation with her mother was any indication. "They're probably happier."

Dexter leaned forward, kissing her forehead. "I missed you." He whispered, feeling vulnerable as he admitted that fact for the first time. "I thought about you every day." Another truth that he had kept even from himself.

Lumen rested her palm against his cheek, resting her forehead against his. "Thank you." She said softly, hoping Dexter could hear in those two words how good it felt to mean something to someone.

* * *

In the morning, Dexter awoke to find that he was alone. Quickly, he sat up, scanning the room for any sign of the woman he had curled up next to hours before. But the bedroom was empty and the bathroom door was ajar and he could see it was unoccupied. Dexter slid out of bed, unable to keep from hurrying into the living room; the anxiety he suddenly felt made him feel foolish but that didn't make it go away.

Lumen was standing in the kitchen, staring at the coffee pot that bubbled and hummed on the kitchen counter. There was a mug of coffee all ready in her hands but she was watching the pot as intently as a caffeine junky, as though her stare would help it brew faster. Dexter moved over to her, resting his hand on the small of her box. Lumen jumped, dropping the mug that she was holding, jumping backward as it shattered around their feet.

"Shit." She looked at Dexter, surprise and contrition on her face. "I am so sorry." Lumen covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. "I didn't know you were there."

"I didn't mean to scare you." Dexter apologized at the same time, moving her away from the shards of mug and stepping over the mess to grab a towel. "Are you all right?" He looked at the clock above the stove and saw it was still a few minutes shy of six. "How long have you been awake?"

Lumen knelt down across from him to help clean up the broken mug. "A while." She tossed the pieces of mug into the trash. "I'll buy you another."

Dexter waved his hand dismissively. "Couldn't sleep?" He hoped restlessness was all that had kept Lumen awake and that she hadn't caught herself sleepwalking again. He wasn't doing a very good job keeping tabs on her, seeing as he hadn't noticed her get out of bed.

Lumen got to her feet, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet. "No." She shook her head. "I kept hearing these noises outside and I thought I kept seeing someone walk by the window, but whenever I got up to look, there was no one there." Again, she shook her head. "I thought I was going crazy but I _swear_ I heard someone."

Dexter had seen this Lumen before. The one who slept in a closet, the one who's hands shook so badly sometimes she couldn't hold onto anything, the one who made pot after pot of coffee to keep from falling asleep because she was sure that the second she closed her eyes she would be a sitting duck. Lumen picked up the coffee pot, only to put it down again as it quickly became clear that she would never be able to pour with trembling hands. "Maybe I am crazy."

Dexter took Lumen's face in his hands and kissed her softly. He wasn't used to being the type of person who wanted to do these things, who initiated contact because he wanted to, not because it was expected of him. Lumen closed her eyes and almost looked more at peace, like he could possibly have that effect on her. "You're fine." He said softly, reassuring himself along with her. She was fine, she was not broken, not some miscreant destined for the bottom of the bay. "It was probably just a dream. You aren't crazy." And if she was…? With her so close, it was impossible to think about the answer to that.

"Are you sure about that?" Lumen smirked but her eyes were still closed and that sublimely happy look was still on her face. "I _feel_ kinda crazy."

"Then I think you're in the right place." Regretfully, Dexter moved away from her. "I need to go wake up Harrison."

Lumen nodded and turned toward the fridge. "I'll get started on breakfast." Her hands, at least, had stopped shaking.

_Could this be domestic bliss? Is this what my life could be like? Could I really be normal without trying to fool anyone? Could I want this for myself?_ He wasn't sure he could answer those questions.

Dexter roused Harrison, helping his groggy son get dressed and brush his hair. When they went back in the kitchen, they found Lumen in the middle of making French toast and Harrison hurried over to her, hugging the back of her legs like he, too, was relieved to see that she was still there. Lumen turned around and ruffled the boy's hair, giving him a smile that almost made Dexter jealous and made him wonder, yet again, if this was how his life was supposed to be. Had Lumen come back for a reason? Did he even believe in such childish ideas as fate and destiny? He knew what Harry would have to say on the subject.

Harrison drug a chair over to the counter and helped Lumen finish with breakfast while Dexter showered and dressed for another day at Miami Metro. He had several cases that required his attention and if luck was on his side, he'd be in for nothing more than a day of paperwork. But there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind assuring him he wasn't going to get off that easy.

By the time Dexter emerged from the bedroom, Lumen and Harrison had made enough French toast to feed the entire building. Dexter looked at the plate of towering breakfast food and raised an eyebrow. Lumen shrugged. "He kept throwing bread onto the pan." Harrison looked pleased with himself.

Between Harrison and himself, they managed to make quite a dent in the French toast supply, though Dexter noticed that Lumen didn't do much eating, just a lot of picking at her food and making use of that childhood trick of pushing her food around so it looked like her plate was emptier than it really was. He didn't say anything to her about her sudden lack of appetite, but he felt worry begin to blossom in the back of his mind, though he quickly shoved it aside. There were more important things to worry about than whether or not Lumen was in the mood for French toast.

That more important thing quickly reared it's ugly head in the form of a phone call received just as Dexter was walking out of Harrison's pre-school. "Morgan." He answered without bothering to check the caller ID.

"Where the fuck are you?" There was still no need to check the name on his phone.

"Dropping Harrison off at school." Dexter responded, checking his watch. He was running a little early, not due at the station for another half-hour. But Deb sounded irate. "What's going on?"

Deb exhaled and said, "I need you right now, down by the pier. Just come straight here."

Dexter pursed his lips, getting behind the wheel of his car. "I need to get the kit from the station. Unless there's no blood." He'd meant it to be a sarcastic comment but Deb didn't seem to find it funny.

"Of course there's blood. There's a shit ton. It's a god-damn mess." Dexter could hear his sister's anxiety and frustration even through the phone. "Just hurry." She hung up without further instruction.

Dexter decided to heed her words, earning a few honks and harsh words from the drivers around him as he hurried to the station. Masuka either had yet to arrive or was all ready on the scene because the lab was empty, leaving no one to hold him up as he ran in, grabbed his bag and hurried out again.

Though Deb's directions had been vague at best, Dexter didn't have any trouble finding the crime scene because the street was lined with police cars that were painting the fronts of the neighboring buildings blue with the lights from the top of their cars. He managed to squeeze his car between Deb's and a brick wall, flashing his badge at one of the cops guarding the perimeter. As could be expected, there were several spectators standing around, trying to get a glimpse of a real life tragedy, something Dexter could never understand.

Carolina was sitting on the curb, her back to the area where Deb, Quinn and the others stood, her face buried in her hands. She looked up as Dexter passed by and he saw that she was pale faced and a little green around the edges. She shook her head. "I don't know how you do it." She moaned before returning her face to her hands.

Dexter didn't bother to stop and chat, heading over to where Deb was standing. Her lips were pursed in a tight line, her knuckles white as she dug her nails into her palms. She looked over at her brother as he approached. "Another fucking cop." She growled, shaking her head. "I can't believe it."

Looking from Deb's livid expression to the scene laid out before them, Dexter raised an eyebrow, pursing his lips. Deb hadn't been kidding when she'd said the place was a mess and he understood why Carolina was sitting several feet away from the scene. The body lay spread eagle, the man's sightless eyes staring up at the perfect Miami day. His face was the only thing still recognizable at him, though that was stretching it, seeing as the slashes on his cheeks and forehead had left his skin sticky red. Immediately, Dexter could see what had ultimately led to the man's death, though the dozens of other stab wounds on his body had done a pretty good job of hurrying him along; there was a single, deep stab wound right above his heart, a point of entry that would lead to almost instantaneous death. Which was exactly why he chose to use it to dispatch his own victims.

Though, nothing else about this murder was neat or tidy. Judging by the heavy amount of blood around some of the wounds and the lack around others, the murderer had kept stabbing long after the man had died. This predator was not his level-headed brethren but someone who's rational thought had left them. Despite the fact that it was clear that the person who had done this was unbalanced (to put it nicely), Dexter couldn't stop his eyes from zeroing in on the wound in the man's chest. His calling card. He remembered showing Lumen how to kill a man, correcting her posture and technique in the living room. Though it was strange to admit, he'd been like a proud father, swelling with pleasure and maybe even love as he watched her hold the knife and practice the proper stroke, imagining what it would be like to see her plunge the knife into the chest of one of the men who had broken her. Now Dexter couldn't help but wonder.

"Dexter?" Deb gave her brother a gentle push, startling him. He blinked and looked back at her. "Everything all right?" She raised an eyebrow.

Dexter nodded. "Just trying to get a feel for what went on here." He still had a job to do, one that didn't involve jumping to conclusions or playing Clue: Lumen on the pier with a butcher knife. He shook his head. What would Harry say.

"Any ideas?" Deb questioned, glancing back at the man. The crime scene photographer was moving around the body, snapping pictures at every angle like it was some sort of pre-prom fashion show.

Dexter knelt beside the body, studying the variety of cuts and stabs on the man's body. "I'm guessing his was stabbed." He remarked, looking up at Deb with a smirk on his face. Deb, as always, impressed him with her colorful choice of words. "Any idea when this happened?" He questioned casually. Hopefully an hour ago, maybe even two; he was surprised by how strongly he wanted this man to have been murdered when Lumen was standing in his kitchen breaking his dishware or making breakfast with his son. But the blood told a different story.

"Witness found the body 'bout an hour ago." Quinn replied. "But he looks like he's been dead a lot longer than that." Dexter looked over at him, wondering when he'd become such an expert. Quinn shrugged defensively. "Isn't that your job?"

Dexter decided not to respond, figuring that he was supposed to play nice with his future brother-in-law. Instead, he opened the kit he'd brought with him, pulling out the necessary tools to collect and test the blood back at the lab. "Who did you say he was again?" Again, he went for nonchalant, focusing on the task at hand.

"Jim McCourt, head of Internal Affairs." Deb answered, shaking her head. "Can you believe it? The day after LaGuerta gets killed, someone else from the department gets killed. They even worked together." She looked at Dexter and Quinn. "That can't be a coincide, right?" Dexter could all ready see the wheels in his sister's head turning, launching her into detective mode, eager to get on the trail. Dexter was proud to admit that his sister was born to be a detective; she had intuition unlike anyone else he'd ever known, even though that intuition often caused him trouble he only barely managed to escape.

Quinn shook his head, squaring his jaw. "We'll catch the bastard who's doing this." Dexter wasn't sure if he was reassuring Deb or just making a blanket statement. "He had to have left behind evidence."

"She." Deb interjected and Dexter looked over at her, surprised. "If this is the same person, it's a women. Remember?" She raised an eyebrow.

_How could I forget?_ Dexter got to his feet, picking up his kit. "I'm going to take this stuff back to the lab, see what I can find out." Deb and Quinn bid him goodbye and good luck and Dexter headed back to his car. He passed Carolina again, but this time she didn't look up.

Silence settled around him after he'd slammed the door shut to his car but Dexter didn't find it comforting. Usually, he enjoyed the silence because it let his mind wander and allowed him to think without distraction. But, at the moment, he didn't like where his thoughts were taking him, leading him away from rational thought and facts to coincidence and intuition and suspicions. _Could this all lead back to Lumen? Is Deb right, is this somehow more than just a coincidence? Is her Dark Passenger running the show now? _

When he dealt with those who murdered innocents, there was no grey area. There was only guilt and evidence that proved guilt. Anything else was irrelevant: motive (in most cases) meant nothing, reasoning and rational had nothing to do with whether or not a person ended up on his table. It was only evidence and punishment and he was the judge, jury and executioner. But with Lumen there was only the nearly incapacitating need for her to be innocent, for this to have absolutely nothing to do with her. He needed her to be innocent because he did not think that he could live without her and proving that Lumen wasn't responsible was the only thought that kept popping up in his mind. He realized his disadvantage, his weakness, how vulnerable he had made himself. Because, if his past was any indication, things would not end well; history would repeat himself, Lumen would leave, only this time, he would have her blood on his hands. How had he let himself get to this point?

Quinn had been right when he'd said there would be evidence and that evidence would either prove that he was worrying for nothing or that he was going to have to be judge and jury all over again. And more than he'd wanted anything before, Dexter wanted the evidence to condemn someone, anyone, else. Things were much simpler when Lumen just wanted him to kill the world's most popular self-help speaker.

* * *

After Dexter had prepared the blood he'd collected at the crime scene, he decided to take an early lunch. Granted, it was more like a late breakfast, but since Deb was still at Jim McCourt's crime scene, she was hardly in the position to argue with his phrasing. The cases piled on his desk could wait a few more hours.

From outside, his apartment didn't look inhabited, but he hoped that Lumen was inside, that she still possessed her tendency for laying low even though there was currently no one out there who wanted to kill her. Except maybe her mother, but that seemed like a family matter.

When Dexter stepped into the apartment, the smell of freshly brewed coffee assaulted his senses and made him wonder just how many pots Lumen planned on consuming that day. She was definitely going to be leaving the apartment eventually, even if it was just to stock up on caffeine. He didn't see her in the living room, but movement in the kitchen told him where he would find her. Lumen was standing by the drawer that held the knifes he used for cooking, her fingers on the handle, her face wary but she relaxed as soon as she saw who was standing in front of her. Exhaling, Lumen shook her head. "Jesus, Dexter, you scared me." She stepped away from the drawer.

Dexter raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk in unannounced into my own house." He smirked and Lumen rolled her eyes. "What are you doing?" The television wasn't on, there was no music playing, not even a book open on the table.

Lumen pointed to the kitchen table and when Dexter turned he saw that she was well on her way to completing the 1,000 piece puzzle he'd received as a Secret Santa gift years ago from a clueless co-worker. "I used to love puzzles when I was a kid, I would do them all the time." Lumen confessed, shaking her head. "I'm such a nerd."

Dexter smiled at her. "No, I think it's impressive." He said, regarding the picture that she had all ready put together, some elaborate mountain scene with lots of grass and sky that all looked the same to him. "I don't have the patience for puzzles."

Lumen looked at him doubtfully. "I find that hard to believe, since you spend hours covering rooms with plastic wrap."

She had a point there. But Dexter could only shrug. "That's different." He knew he wouldn't be able to explain why but Lumen didn't press the issue and he knew that she understood. Because she had been there, she had stood beside him and unrolled foot after foot of plastic sheeting, operating under the knowledge that one gap could leave behind the evidence that could be their undoing. And it hadn't been so bad with her there beside him, working as a pair, operating with a common goal in mind. He wanted that again, not just in the darkest part of the night, when every second could mean discovery, but every morning, every afternoon, every moment he wanted to know that she was there. There was no longer any point in pretending that wasn't the truth, because he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding that idea from himself. In fact, the only one who probably didn't know exactly how he felt about Lumen was Lumen.

Dexter moved closer to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her softly at first then with more desperation, as though he could somehow break the hold that the Dark Passenger had over her, resorting to old fairy tale tricks. Lumen put her arms around his shoulders and though she was half his size, he found comfort in her presence.

When the kiss was finally broken, Lumen had that transcendently happy look on her face again, like she didn't have a care in the world. Dexter wanted to be like that and wished that her kiss was enough to assure him that all was right, that she was as innocent as Harrison.

"What are you doing home so early?" Lumen questioned, moving back to her seat at the kitchen table and beckoning Dexter to join her. "Come to help me with my masterpiece?" She raised an eyebrow.

Dexter sat down beside her, moving the chair so that their knees were touching. "I'd just mess it up, you're better off without me." He assured her. He picked up a piece but quickly put it back down again because he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

Lumen picked up the same piece and quickly put it in its place. "So why are you home?" She looked at him. "Is everything all right?"

Dexter wasn't sure how to answer her question. Well, she might be committing acts of murder without even realizing it but other than that, yeah sure, everything was all right. Better than all right, perfect in fact, if he was able to ignore the aforementioned idea. "I…" There was something about Lumen that seemed to draw the truth out of him. "I wanted to see you." Because if he could just see her, somehow he could convince himself that everything was going to be okay. So far it was working.

Lumen put down the piece that she had in her hand and turned her body toward him. "You know, you're pretty good at saying exactly what someone needs to hear." She remarked but Dexter could tell that he had done exactly that, said exactly what she'd needed at that moment, to know that she wasn't alone. She leaned forward and kissed him again.

Two years before, Lumen had come to him asking for his help, finding a savior in a monster. He had been the only one who could make every bad and hurtful thing in her life go away, her ogre in shining armor. And now, Dexter knew he was going to do that again, make everything go away; if Lumen was the one that was committing the murders, than he was going to make sure that no one knew it but him. Only this time he wasn't making it go away for her, but for himself.

**TBC**


	12. Keeping the Winter at Bay

**Is This the Better Way to Spend the Day,**

**Keeping the Winter at Bay **

Compartmentalization was an area in which Dexter Morgan considered himself an expert. He had been organizing the different elements of his life into neat little boxes (some of which were never meant to be opened again) since he was eight years old and had build his whole persona on that very talent. But, at the moment, he was having a very difficult time organizing his thoughts into which should be shelved and which needed to be at the forefront of his mind. Dexter had often considered Lumen to be a whirlwind, storming into his life and turning everything upside down; she had done it two years ago and she was doing it all over again, though in a completely different way. Two years ago, Lumen was on his mind because he was either trying to figure out how to get rid of her or how to keep her from being apprehended by people who either wanted her dead or in jail. Now, even though he still had his suspicions, Dexter had to admit that it wasn't Lumen's possible misdeeds that were causing her to be the number one presence in his mind but Lumen herself. He wished that he was still sitting at the kitchen table with her, touching her, kissing her, watching as her brow knitted in concentration as she worked on that stupid puzzle. He was most definitely smitten, if nothing else, though Dexter was starting to suspect that it was definitely something else. What was the word that one of Harrison's favorite movies used? Twitterpated. Dexter found that word fitting because it was a word that made absolutely no sense, much like the range of emotions he was currently feeling. He'd always hated mess and human emotions, and emotions that dealt with another person were definitely messy but he found it much harder to mind now.

Despite his cluttered thoughts, Dexter tried to focus on his work. The results for McCourt's blood wouldn't be in until the following morning at the earliest, so Dexter was trying to make himself tackle the files that had been sitting on his desk for the past several weeks. Through the windows in the lab, he could see Deb and Quinn sitting at Quinn's desk, deep in conversation; judging by the scowl on Deb's face, the topic was a professional one. Undoubtedly she was comparing notes with her old partner about the two murders; heat was all ready coming down from the higher ups, especially since the latest victim was one of the higher-ups. Deb had never been good with the political element of detective work and Dexter was sure that whatever she was saying to Quinn was littered with vulgarity. The rest of the department also seemed to be hard at work, hurrying to figure out who had decided to kill two of their own in the past two days. Masuka was still at the crime scene, looking for anything that might have been missed; Carolina was sitting at the desk Batista had occupied only yesterday, staring off into the distance. She still looked pale-faced and wane, though her color was slowly returning and she was clutching a bottle of water like it was a flotation device. Dexter doubted she was going to be around much longer.

Looking away from the window, Dexter picked up a folder and flipped it open. Unlike the others, this wasn't a case that had been requested by the department. It was something that he'd put together on his own time and for his eyes only. The face of Brent Miller, construction worker, stared up at him, smiling in a photo he'd taken from the DMV's website. Based on just the picture alone, one might have been inclined to believe that Brent Miller was a simple guy, uncomplicated, maybe even a bit of an oaf but Dexter knew better, he knew that first impressions were rarely ever right. He also knew that Miller had a hobby that he kept secret from his friends, neighbors and the rest of the world, a way that he liked to unwind after a long day of dry-walling and painting. Five families in Miami were now missing their sons, little boys taken away from playgrounds and grocery stores, never to be heard from again. Dexter was sure that those mothers and fathers were still holding out hope that their children would one day be returned to them, but he knew their hopes would never be realized because Brent Miller had made sure of that; he'd used the little boys as play things and then made sure they weren't going to be able to run back home to Mommy and Daddy and tell them all about the boogeyman. Whenever he thought about Brent Miller, whenever Dexter stared down at the man's smiling and unassuming face, he felt a rage rise up within him that was nearly unmatched and he wanted to throw out his methodical planning and just strangle Miller right in the street. Because when he looked at the pictures of the missing boys he could only see Harrison's face. It was time to make sure that Brent Miller didn't snatch another child away from a swing set; Dexter had taken all the necessary steps, he'd ascertained Miller's guilt, he knew the man's schedule and it was time to let the Dark Passenger out to play. It would be a welcome relief to go on auto-pilot, even if it was just for one night, to let someone else do all the work and let his brain take a much needed break from everything else that was going on. Dexter looked at the man's photo one more time before flipping the folder closed; it made him feel a little better knowing that by the time the weekend was done, Brent Miller would no longer prey on Miami's children.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Dexter devoted himself to the files left on his desk, working on cases that didn't have such a personal connection. It was nice to look at blood splatter and not have to wonder if Lumen was behind the murders. Deb managed to bumble her way through a press conference that afternoon, assuring the people and law enforcement officers of Miami that while they didn't have any leads on the deaths of two of Miami's finest they were going to crack the case wide open. Any day now. Dexter just hoped he was able to dig up the facts first.

That evening, the three of them went out for dinner, letting Harrison chose the restaurant (within reason, since Harrison's favorite restaurants usually featured costumed characters and screaming children) and for the next several hours, Dexter resumed his patented disguise of pretending that there was absolutely nothing wrong and everything was exactly as it appeared to be. Lumen held his hand under the table, running her thumb down his knuckles absently as they listened to Harrison talk about the kids in his class and watched him scribble in the coloring book he'd brought with them. Dexter knew that when their waitress looked at them she saw nothing but a big happy family and instead of making him inwardly smirk and roll his eyes at her obliviousness, it made him wonder if maybe they could be what they seemed after all.

Harrison fell asleep during the car ride home and didn't stir even as Dexter carried him up the stairs, changed him into his pajamas and tucked him into bed. He and Lumen put the TV on low and watched some inane sitcom; normally, monotony drove Dexter crazy, but with Lumen curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder, it didn't seem so bad.

When they finally decided to retire for the evening, Dexter didn't hesitate in putting his arms around Lumen, pulling her close to him as they lay beneath the covers. He quickly fell asleep listening to the sound of her breathing, his worries vanishing like they'd never been there at all.

* * *

Dexter wasn't sure what it was that had woken him up. The house was silent, not a creature was stirring, but his bed was empty, void of the warmth that had lulled him to sleep in the first place. His arms, which had held tightly to Lumen only hours before, were empty now and he wondered if that was what had woken him up. The room was still dark, morning still a ways off and the worry that Lumen was sleep walking again made him jump to his feet and hurry down the hallway. But Lumen was standing in the kitchen, scooping coffee grinds into the machine. He said her name softly and she turned to face him. "What are you doing?" Dexter walked over to her, glancing at the clock: 12:45 AM, way too early (or late) for coffee.

Lumen turned on the coffee maker. "I keep having these horrible nightmares. About Boyd and Cole." She tightened her fingers into fists. "And all these other things that don't make sense. Awful things." She shook her head. "I don't want to sleep."

Dexter reached past her and turned off the machine. "I'll stay awake with you." He offered, taking her hands and pulling her closer.

Lumen shook her head. "You have to work in the morning." She protested.

"You shouldn't have to be alone." Dexter knew what it was like to have these feelings and images of violence and horror and to be left alone with them.

They moved into the living room and sat on the couch, turning on TV but keeping it low so as not to wake Harrison. Lumen laid with her head in Dexter's lap, her legs draped over the arm of the couch. He started playing with her hair absently, the way her mother used to do when she was a little girl. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so content and serene.

The smile on Lumen's face made Dexter chuckle. "What?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing. You just remind me of the cat I had when I was younger. Like you should be purring right now." Dexter smiled, hoping that Lumen wouldn't mind being compared to a feline. He wasn't entirely sure how women felt about that kind of thing.

But it didn't seem to bother her. "I didn't know you had a cat." She looked up at him. "Tell me about him."

Dexter figured it was probably best to leave out the part that at that age, he'd been more interested in killing animals than keeping them. It was hardly charming but it had been necessary, because when he killed the neighbor's dog it had kept him from killing the school bully. Which might not have been a bad thing. "It was the ugliest cat in the world." Dexter smiled at the memory of the creature, shaking his head. "Deb found it in a dumpster, like someone took one look at it and threw it away. But she really wanted to keep it and Mom was still really sick at the time, so Harry didn't have to heart to tell her to get rid of it." Plus, Harry had probably assumed the kitten would keep Deb distracted while her father and brother were on another one of their mysterious trips.

"What was his name?" Lumen questioned.

"Duran. As in Duran Duran." Lumen started laughing and Dexter grinned. "Deb loved them."

"Oh boy." Lumen laughed, shaking her head. "Though I guess I can't really talk. I totally had a New Kids on the Block phase." She shook her head, as if pitying her adolescent self. "But at least that's better than the stuff kids listen to today. My niece loves the Jonas Brothers." She made a face.

Dexter chuckled. " Yeah, makes me worry for Harrison."

A moment passed in silence before Lumen asked in all seriousness, "Do you? Worry about him?"

Dexter thought about her question for a minute, even though it was one he'd asked himself many times before. "Yes." He answered truthfully. "All the time."

Lumen's brow knitted as she looked up at him, "Why?" Dexter was touched by her genuine confusion but it made him wonder just how naïve she let herself be when it came to him. It seemed that, despite everything that had transpired, both Lumen and Deb had a bit of a blind spot when it came to the monster he really was, which was both touching and sad at the same time. He wished he was the person they seemed to want to believe that he was, that he didn't have to fool the people he loved into thinking he was a good person. But that would never be the case.

"I had a brother. A blood brother, named Brian. After Harry took me in, he went to a foster home and I completely forgot about him until a few years ago." He shook his head; what sort of person forgets about his own brother? "He was just like me: he was a killer."

Lumen sat up, leaning against him in a way that made Dexter feel grounded. "What happened to him?" She questioned softly.

Dexter couldn't look at her. "I killed him. He was the only person who understood me, who knew what it was like and I killed him." He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Lumen took his hand, lacing their fingers together, but he still did not look at her. "Every time I think about Harrison growing up, I just keep thinking about Brain. I don't want Harrison to grow up to be like me but I just can't imagine any other way." He had never been able to truly share these fears with anyone but instead of feeling cathartic, it just made him feel worse and even more worried for his son, like Harrison's face was sealed. What was he supposed to tell his son when he came to him wondering why he wanted to kill? How was he supposed to explain that his very genetics had betrayed him?

Lumen took his face in her hands and lifted his face so that they were eye to eye once more. She kissed him softly, resting her forehead against his. "Dexter," she said his name softly, like the beginning of a prayer, "you're not the monster you think you are."

Dexter laid his hand over hers. "You don't know that."

Lumen raised an eyebrow. "Yes I do." She said in the tone of someone who was not about to be contradicted. "The Dexter that Brain thought he knew is not the Dexter that I know." He opened his mouth to protest but she quickly interrupted him. "You're not an awful person, Dexter. You might think you do awful things but that's not you. You're the best person I know."

Dexter scoffed. "I feel sorry for you." He mumbled.

"Stop." Lumen chided. "You should start letting herself see you the way everyone else does. Kind, strong, brave." She punctuated each adjective with a kiss, making Dexter almost want to believe her. "You saved me." Dexter met her gaze and saw nothing but honesty and gratitude and, dare he even think it?, love. "And Harrison is lucky to have you, you're an amazing father." Her voice was almost louder than the doubts in his mind; was she the Good Angel on his shoulder?

Lumen kissed him again and Dexter pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. She smelled like Lumen again. Dexter knew that Lumen believed everything she had just said and that somehow made him feel better, because it was nice to have someone truly know him but still believe there were good things about him. But there was still that Dark angel on his shoulder, arguing with everything that Lumen was saying. But, in that moment, she was much louder than that Dark Passenger and that was just fine with him.

**TBC**


End file.
